


Darkest Hour

by Corvus_Aconitum



Series: Walking On Air [7]
Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, M/M, Nick Whump, Slow Burn, Snark, Swear Words, control by zaubertrank, stubbornness all around, unusual methods of care taking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvus_Aconitum/pseuds/Corvus_Aconitum
Summary: Hank and Renard notice that Nick doesn't care anymore, if he is injured at work or getting sick ever since Juliette left him. What is the matter with him? Did the fashion of their break up tear wounds that none of them saw? When Nick refuses to accept help Renard employs unusual methods to keep Nick from ignoring his health. Will he be able to help him?





	1. Worrisome Tendencies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TeamRenhardt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamRenhardt/gifts).



> Finally the beginnings of their story as hinted at in various parts of my series 'Walking On Air'. It will be one bumpy ride for our favourite duo.  
> Set not long after Nick's zombification.  
> Thanks and hugs to wonderful TeamRenhardt for being an invaluable source of ideas and having an open ear for my rambling. 
> 
> And now, enjoy!

 

Darkest Hour:

 

Captain Renard gazes after the ambulance, which speeds away with Detective Burkhardt inside. He peruses the scene until he spots Hank, who frowns in worry. Not that he can begrudge him that. His partner has just collapsed and has been taken to hospital.

He walks up to him with long strides. Hank really seems to be preoccupied for he doesn't notice his approach until he puts one of his own large hands lightly onto his arm. It's just a moment but it garners him a grateful, tired smile from the broad shouldered man.

“He will be back to give us grey hairs in no time at all.”

Even the rare quirk of Renard's lips cannot hide his own worry but Hank appreciates the sentiment.

“I know, I shouldn't worry too much and Nick has been through worse. But, frankly, it's not everyday that you see your partner collapsing from sheer exhaustion.”

Hank tenses nearly imperceptibly. He hesitates but Renard knows that there's something his Detective wants to add.

“I told him to get a few hours of sleep but I'm quite sure he didn't get a single one. This case... it just hit him pretty hard. He couldn't stop until we found that woman's murderer and after 4 days without sleep... well, once it sank in that we had our perp there simply wasn't anything to keep him going.”

“The victim suffered from amnesia, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes.”

Another bout of silence. The Captain waits patiently, hands stuffed into pockets and regarding his Detective with carefully concealed curiosity.

Sean can see how that one hit home a little too closely considering what has happened to Miss Silverton not that long ago. But still there's more... things that Hank is uncomfortable with.

“Captain, can I talk freely?”

Here it comes.

“Yes, of course. What is it?” His stance turns just a bit more approachable.

“To be honest, I am worried about Nick. I mean, it's not as if I don't understand why he couldn't stop working on this one but over the last few weeks there have been a few too many incidents where he has simply pushed on... without regard to his own safety. Nick's always been dedicated to the job but this isn't like him.”

“I see what you mean. He seems reluctant to accept help these days. An idea why that may be?”

Hank sighs defeated.

“Frankly, no. There's been Juliette leaving but I just don't see how those two are connected.”

“No matter the reason, I will talk to him. When you see him at hospital, tell him I want to see him once he's back at work.”

“Thanks, Captain. I appreciate that.” The Afro-American is about to start off in direction of his car but for a second time a hand falls on his arm. He stops and looks back to the tall man.

“Hank, I will get to the bottom of this and then we'll help him.”

It's a promise and one that Hank takes seriously.

“Yeah, we will.”

>>>

They are already dealing with a new case so it is rather late by the time they return to a virtually empty precinct.

When Hank has told him that the Captain wants to see him once they get back, he's not been able to shake off a feeling of unease. He won't like what's to come, that much is for sure. Of course, despite his often aloof exterior, Renard is known and valued as a superior who cares about his men, but still.

His instincts tell him that this isn't meant simply as a social call.

_Well, there's nothing to be done about it. Better yet I face him now and get it out of the way._

With a grin at Hank that's more carefree than he feels he makes his way to Renard's office. The door is open, invitation to anyone who wants to approach the man. He raps his knuckles against the open door frame before entering.

Renard looks impeccable as always, a far cry from his own, slightly haggard appearance. Steeling himself Nick schools his features into an open expression.

“Captain, you wanted to see me?”

“Nick.” The man smiles briefly, genuinely relieved to see him back it seems.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better actually.” A rueful smile.

“That's good to hear. Close the door and sit down. You still look a bit peaky, so I'm taking no chances.”

He appreciates the attempt at humour, although it doesn't manage to set him at ease. Still he complies – tensing, Renard notices, the slightest bit – but making eye contact none the less.

“You had us a bit worried. Especially as I couldn't help but notice that over the course of the last two months there have been a number of incidents, where you have been sick or injured.”

There's no accusation in his tone. This is just a neutral account of facts. Renard waits, let's the words sink in, gauges Nick's reaction:

The Grimm ducks his head, gaze straying to the side for a moment, seemingly in embarrassment. Nick is good, but Sean has been trained for all his life in reading others. His Detective hides something and he will find out what it is.

“Oh, yeah, about that... sorry.... It's been kind of a rough patch lately.”

The Grimm sounds apologetic enough but at the same time something in him closes off, becomes unreachable.

“Anyway, if this is about missing out from work, of course, I can rework those days....”

Nick hurries to assure.

“This isn't about work absence, rather the opposite.”

Nick's eyebrows draw together in a frown.

“What do you mean? What _is_ this about?”

An edge of frost enters his voice, an edge of defensiveness. The change is sudden and yet, only noticeable by an attuned ear. Renard leans back in his chair, steeples long fingers in front of him – a show of deceptive calm – as his gaze turns piercing and an eyebrow is raised. Renard responds to this veiled show of hostility in kind:

“For instance, there have been three broken ribs around the middle of May....”

“That was no big deal. I could still work and I didn't take sick leave because of it.”

“Then maybe you should have. The injury exacerbated into pneumonia, if I may remind you.”

The Captain's tone is clipped with displeasure now but Nick only stubbornly compresses his lips. Mercilessly the zauberbiest pushes on:

“You _do_ know how injuries to the torso can escalate into pneumonia, don't you? If not, let me explain: It happens when someone does not take pain medication but instead tries to alleviate discomfort by retaining a hunched posture and thus minimizes ventilation of his lungs. Does that in any way sound familiar to you, Detective?”

Renard pins him down with an intense stare that Nick finds difficult to evade let alone ignore.

_Damn the man!!_

Still Nick remains silent, crossing his arms in front of his chest and waiting for the axe to fall. He's definitely leaning towards anger now.

_It's none of his business! I didn't inconvenience anyone, so why does he complain?_

“Then there was this knife wound to the leg... or was it a talon or claw, after all, gained when doing _other_ work? No matter what the cause, you could have told Hank or myself - we are both aware of your night-time job – and yet you told nobody. What were you thinking?!”

The Captain leans forward now – a thing not diminishing his imposing frame in the least – regal features darkening in disapproval. Before Nick can answer he continues sharply:

“Did it really take a suspect _kicking_ you in the thigh to make you realise that one shouldn't do police work when sporting an untreated injury?”

“Do I get to say anything for myself?” Irritation makes the Grimm's voice turn raw.

“I don't know. Do you have something productive to contribute?” Acid fairly drips from these words and predictably Nick retreats into angry silence.

“No? Well then let's get to your most recent run-in with a hospital. While I certainly understand that this case got to you and I am willing to cut you some slack on this one, it is worrisome that you did not even contemplate talking to anyone, let alone asking for help.”

At the end of his tirade Renard's tone gains just a tiny bit more warmth. Nick knows, rationally that his Captain is concerned for him but on a more emotional level he is just pissed that he wants to dictate how he handles his own health.

“So what is this about? What do you want?”

There's a rather large amount of brashness to his Detective's tone, that Renard doesn't care for at all and that he lets slide only with great difficulty. Calling him out on it wouldn't, at this point, do anything to further his plans.

“I want to know, why you refuse to inform your partner and not least your superior about incidents compromising your health? You may have done one or the other foolish thing while under my command but this level of disregard is not like you at all.”

“If you think I am a liability....” Hostility and hurt pride ring clearly in his words.

“We are not talking about liabilities, we are talking about you showing disconcerting tendencies toward self-destruction ever since Miss Silverton left you!”

Finally Sean loses patience with his stubborn Grimm, causing his words to lash out like a whip. He barely keeps himself from slapping his palm flatly onto the desk top as it is. He is well aware that his words hit Nick like a punch in the gut but instead of petrifying him, they push the Grimm to his feet in a fit of blazing anger!

“And whose fault is it that she left?!”

That old anger is back, anger at Renard's involvement with Juliette and anger at something that Sean cannot place but knows is the key to this whole problem.

“I don't know, Detective. You tell me. You certainly seem intent on punishing yourself.”

Nick wants to shout and rant but something in the zauberbiest's tone makes him stop short, makes his anger disappear only to be replaced by a feeling of nausea.

_Of course I know why I am doing all this, don't I? It's not what the Captain thinks, at least not fully... it's not that easy... but his words come uncomfortably close._

Renard watches his Grimm intently, observes righteous anger dwindle away and how that strong man practically shrinks in on himself. It is like a shutter is pulled closed, taking away anger but also the very emotions that could lead him to understand Nick's problem. His Detective steps back from his desk, takes a deep breath and finally looks him into the eyes.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.” His tone is wooden, not from insincerity but from detachment of things too hurtful to touch. Still, Renard doesn't give up.

“I want to help you. I hope that you understand that.”

Nick, having sat down again, stares at his hands. Understanding, yes. Being able to accept that help? Definitely not.

The older man sighs, then there's a slight clank of glass against wood, which makes Nick look up. There on Renard's desk is a liquid filled glass with a screw cap, Renard's hand resting on its top in a gesture that makes him look regal. Sharp green eyes capture his, hold them, gaze not _at_ him but seemingly _into_ him. Nick frowns in confusion and scepticism, alternately eyeing the jar and his Captain.

“I cannot let you destroy yourself, no matter how sound your reasons seem to yourself. At the moment apparently you cannot be trusted to mind your own health, so here is what we will do: This (he lightly taps the lid with one long finger) is a zaubertrank. We will both visit the Spice shop and your friend Miss Calvert and have her explain to you what the trank does.”

Nick wants to protest or at the very last ask a few choice questions but Renard is having none of it:

“You will listen, Detective, and mind my orders. Is that clear?”

His tone is infused with natural authority and brooks no arguments. Whatever positive feelings Nick has formerly garnered for the zauberbiest Prince evaporate now as he feels threatened in making decisions for himself. His lips press into a thin line, letting Renard know that he has his work cut out for himself, if he truly wants to go through with helping his Detective. The nod he finally gives is jerky and scrapes heavily on the edges of insubordination.

_It's one thing to obey him... and damn him for having that effect on me at all.... But that doesn't mean I have to like it!_

“What zaubertrank is that? What does it do?”

“That remains for Miss Calvert to explain to you... as a safety measure, so to speak, to let you know that you are told the truth. And now, get your jacket, we have an appointment to keep.”

The tall man rises from his chair striking a truly imposing figure as he stands erect, his eyes never straying from Nick's own.

“Appointment to keep...?” His question is tinged with incredulity.

“I wasn't aware I was mumbling, so I am sure you understood just right, and now: Move, Detective Burkhardt!”

Nick does so but not without sending his superior a withering glare.

>>>

“Miss Calvert, would you please explain to Nick what this zaubertrank does and for what it is generally used in the wesen world?”

Rosalee looks from the Captain to her angry friend, both clearly at odds with each other, before complying with the man's unusual request. She examines the potion, sniffs its contents carefully and finally takes one of the old tomes down from a shelf to cross reference her suspicion of what a zaubertrank they are dealing with.

“Okay, I recognize it and I know what it does.”

Something in her eyes tells Sean that she is more familiar with this particular potion than just recognizing it.

“For whom is this intended?” Initially she asks both of them but in the end her gaze stays on the Captain.

“For Nick.” The man replies evenly.

“Why?”

“That is between him and me but as his friend I am sure you can think of a few reasons. Why don't you explain to Nick, what it does?”

She can, indeed, imagine ... not that she will voice any of those reasons now.

“I will, but I have another question first: Whose blood is in the potion?”

“Mine.”

“May I test that?”

“Yes, you may.”

Nick follows this exchange with a growing sense of unease and irritation. He watches further as Rosalee takes a drop of Renard's blood from his index finger, putting it in some kind of orange solution before adding a drop of that trice damned zaubertrank. The solution turns a light blue, which obviously satisfies her.

“Okay, Nick. Do you know anything about this brew?”

“No. I have been ordered to come here so you can explain this whole nonsense to me.” There's a fair bit of rebelliousness. He's unsure and furthermore he's angry. Rosalee takes a deep breath.

“In the past, when wesen lived according to the old ways more closely – like you have seen with the Rabe-family for instance – and when they were more strongly persecuted for who they are, many wesen took to adjusting and hiding with great difficulty. Some of them turned violent, not against others but against themselves in the process. If that was the case some families would request having a zaubertrank like this brewed... to make sure those wesen did not hurt themselves.”

She lets that sink in, seeing Nick's eyes widen before they narrow dangerously and turn an angry, betrayed stare to his Captain. Rosalee knows that if she wants to help her friend she will have to be open with him. Carefully the small woman takes one of the Grimm's much larger hands into hers. For a moment she thinks he'll jerk his own away but then it relaxes a fraction and some warmth enters his eyes when he looks at her.

“Nick, _I_ have been under the influence of this zaubertrank... when I have been in a bad way.” They both know that she means her time as a drug addict.

“Basically it let's the anchor of the trank, in this case Captain Renard, know when you are hurt. Well, hurt in a more severe way than a cut to the finger or some scratch.”

“Given my Detective's night-time profession, if that were the case, I would feel like I were constantly getting electric shocks.” Renard mutters darkly, garnering him a truly black stare from the Grimm.

Rosalee ignores him and continues quietly:

“When I was taking Jay and... wanted to get off it I let myself be bound to a tutor by this potion. He would know, if I had taken the drug because, in the end, doing so is an injury to the body. It was a bitch to cope with that kind of control – especially at that time – but in the end it helped me.”

There's so much emotion in her warm brown eyes, making Nick envelope her in a hug by instinct. When they step away from each other he says slowly:

“I see how it has helped you, Rosie, but I am neither a violent wesen nor a drug addict.”

Those words are compressed with tightly coiled emotions.

“No you are not.” This is Renard speaking. Nick curses himself for nearly forgetting that he is there.

“Miss Calvert, thank you for your detailed explanation and your account of personal experience... I know that this hasn't been easy for you.”

She knows that he is sincere for there is true warmth shining in his green eyes when he regards her.

“Now do you have a place, where Detective Burkhardt and I can talk in private?”

The Captain makes it abundantly clear in which function he is here. This is a commanding officer helping and guiding his subordinate to keep him from harm.

>>>

“Now that Miss Calvert has explained matters, are you ready to listen?”

Renard leans on a workbench with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Do you expect an honest answer to that, Captain?”

An impatient jerk of Renard's head to bid him to continue. The man is humouring him and he knows it but he is too angry to think about such inconsequential things as sassiness against his superior.

“So, to be honest: No, I am not! This is a farce and frankly, I do not know what you try to gain by doing this. Is it about keeping tabs on your local Grimm? To make sure that there won't be another one of your crooked family zombifying or brain-washing me?”

On a purely factual level Nick knows he is being unfair. But he is not objective right now. He is this close to going off the rails, upset and uncomfortable and feels threatened in his dignity.

The Captain is his polar opposite. He is deadly calm, aloof and seems to be in complete control of the situation... which only serves to infuriate him further.

“Be sensible, Detective. This isn't about Grimms or Wesen or Royals, this is about seeing you go on a path of self-destruction without any second thoughts....”

“ _This_ is ridiculous!!” Nick explodes, taking a step forward and poking his index finger into empty air as if he would rather like to shove Renard but isn't stupid enough to actually do so.

He is aware, somewhere deep down, that the Captain is right, that his way of doing things has become warped in a way that has nothing to do with veering off path but everything with protecting others and in a way himself. Still he squashes down those doubts. He doesn't need that now. It isn't Renard's business!

“Miss Calvert didn't think my concerns to be ridiculous.”

His eyes whip up at this, gaze smouldering with fury and other feelings which the half-zauberbiest ostensibly tries to place, given his shrewd expression. That Renard has uttered these words in a quiet, non aggressive tone does not do anything to calm him down. On the contrary, it drives him up the walls.

“Rosalee didn't know what she was talking about.” Nick hisses, stance reflecting his mood like a mirror.

“Really? She seemed to be talking out of personal experience. I think she understood the situation quite well. Don't insult her by denying that.”

“Stop! Don't twist words around in my mouth! I'm not some perp you are interrogating. I didn't mean her personal experience and you know it!”

Renard's eyes acquire that hard glint which makes him such a formidable Captain. Nick doesn't want to admit to that right now but he cannot help noticing. He ploughs on, self-defensive instincts flaring up.

“Anyway, you make it sound as if I do harm to myself. I am not! What is it to you, if I don't go around whining about every little injury I acquire?! I have a dangerous job in case you haven't noticed, Captain!”

Renard pushes himself away from the workbench, gaining a good bit of height and authority simply by standing erect. He glowers down on him. Sean doesn't know what has gotten into Nick but there are some rules even the irascible Grimm has to stand by no matter how upset he is right now.

“Mind your tone, Detective.”

Nick finds himself subjected to a stare of intense displeasure and, although he tries to hide the fact, the man's sheer commanding presence cows him enough to at least keep him from uttering another offensive comment. Renard seems to be satisfied with that for now.

“I am aware that you are not outright hurting yourself but the question remains, what is the matter with you?”

The man's stare turns inquisitive again, shows a hint of concern even, but this time Nick manages to close off each and every emotion, hindering Renard from gaining any insight.

He seems to notice that staring at him won't do the trick this time. When he continues a small measure of snappishness enters his tone.

“If I didn't know you any better I would take this for some misguided sense of invincibility following your growth of powers and durability after being turned into a zombie.”

He makes an abortive gesture clearly speaking of his growing frustration.

“But knowing you the way I do I can exclude that at least.”

Nick waits silently, poised as if he intents to flee at first chance given. When nothing at all is forthcoming the Captain heaves an inaudible sigh before compressing his lips into a thin line of disapproval and obviously coming to a decision:

“Seeing that this discussion is pointless, anyway, I will tell you how we will proceed and what you can expect.”

Renard leans back against the workbench, eyebrow raised and gaze challenging. When he gets no rebellious answer but only a suspicious frown in return he goes on:

“Once you have taken the zaubertrank (he puts out his hand in an imperious gesture when Nick instantly wants to interrupt)... once you have taken the potion I will know about each and every injury or state of sickness you display. I will only be aware of the more severe ones, mind you, otherwise I would be feeling like under an electric current. And I can do without a Grimm induced cardiac pace maker, thank you very much.”

In response the Grimm only crosses his arms in front of his chest in a silent show of mutiny. He waits for the Captain to call him out on insubordination but so far he hasn't done it.

“You will tell me about any incident that may befall you, immediately and with complete honesty. It will be my decision to send you to a doctor or to hospital in case you need further treatment than I myself are able to provide and you will abide by that decision.”

Nick wants to rant and rave but finds himself affected by the Bastard Prince's tone and his Police training nonetheless. Still, he cannot take those preposterous demands without any protest:

“You can't be serious!”

Sean is not impressed at all.

“Tell me, do I come across as someone cracking jokes on a regular basis?” He snaps out in response. Nick knows his patience is nearing its end but all in all the man is infuriatingly unfazed by his persevering rebellion. The Grimm makes a scoffing noise, turns his own angry glare back up at his Captain.

“No, you don't. But I didn't take you for a fool either.”

“Nor did I, and see where we are now.”

That voice fairly drips acid while still projecting the full force of royal aloofness making Nick growl inwardly in frustration.

“Then tell me, Captain, what will happen, if I don't take your precious zaubertrank or decide I don't want to act as your puppet any longer after I have taken it? Will I get zapped or hit by some invisible magical hand?”

Well, Nick is as versed in using stinging sarcasm as Renard is.

“Nothing of that sort will happen.”

He says this with deadly calm, doesn't raise his voice or lets any emotion crack his blank facade. Still, when Renard pins him with his very own look of reproach, Nick finds himself fighting hard not to swallow thickly.

>>>

Rosalee doesn't know what the two of them have talked about, but when Nick storms out of the back room, an aura of true Grimm fury pouring from him, and puts the empty jar on her counter with enough force to crack the glass, she knows that he has taken the potion. He storms out of the Spice Shop without another word.

A moment later the Captain comes in, looking tired all of a sudden. He pinches the bridge of his nose, a rare outward sign of distress. She approaches him carefully.

“I know you mean well and I hope you can help him.”

He looks at her with something akin to gratefulness.

“I will certainly try. It would help me understand him, though, if I knew if he displayed the selfsame problems with you?”

The intelligent fuchsbau contemplates his question, also debating most likely, how much to tell him.

“Not in the way I am sure he does at work. But he has virtually stopped taking Monroe along for any actual hunting of wesen criminals. I think he wants to protect us but why, I cannot say.”

“Thank you, Miss Calvert.”

There's deep compassion for her friend but after some time also a spark of mischief enters her eyes.

“Your welcome, but don't you think, Captain, that after all that has happened we should be on first name basis?”

He inclines his head, managing to look no more regal than is warranted.

“That should be acceptable, I think.”

>>>

Nick arrives home still seething. He steps inside, throws badge and keys haphazardly onto the sideboard and wants nothing more than to punch the wall with all of his considerable strength. Punch it hard to make a dent in it!

He already raises his fist to do so – who should stop him, he is alone at home – but a thought freezes him dead in his tracks and fires up his anger even more:

He cannot punch the wall. He might injure his hand and from now on a certain manipulative bastard Royal will know exactly when something like that happens. He growls in frustration, pushing away the thought that it is because of situations like these that Renard has made him take the zaubertrank.

_What is that trice damned man thinking?! What is his game? And anyway, I am not a child for Christ's sake!_

Unbidden their conversation from earlier comes back to mind. He is breathing heavily and not at all thinking clearly when he remembers Renard's last words:

“If you do not take the zaubertrank, I will pronounce you unfit for work, which in turn will ban you from doing any Police work for the time being. If you do not tell me of an injury or other state compromising your health or ignore my decisions regarding your treatment, you will face a four week long suspension.”

Nick has stared at him slack jawed for a full minute.

“What?!? I mean, on what grounds?”

“Oh, your medical record of on duty injuries does speak for itself.”

He has felt like teetering on the edge of stepping up to Renard and punching him. Apparently Renard has known that, too, but as always the bloody Prince hasn't given anything away. He's only cocked his head slightly, gaze again turning challenging when he's quietly intoned:

“It is your choice, Detective. I won't force you.”

“Not... not forcing me?!” He has sputtered in disbelief and not a small part of hurt pride.

Renard has not been impressed, though, stared him down without wavering for even an instant. In the end Nick has found himself forced to make a decision.

He's taken that cursed jar from the other man and weighed it in his hand as if contemplating to throw it against a wall or better yet Renard's head. When he's finally unscrewed it and put the glass to his mouth he's done so while staring the tall zauberbiest dead in the eye. His own gaze has spoken of hurt and fury, promising that he won't forgive him for a long time.

He's drunk the stuff without so much as a grimace, without showing any other emotion than anger, really.

Upon finishing the stuff he's stepped up to his Captain, ignoring their difference in height or power and said in a deadly whisper:

“I hope you know that you are a manipulative bastard, _Sir_.”

He has executed a flawless mocking bow and stormed out of the room before Renard could even respond to his latest act of insolence.

>>>

Normally Nick would never have insulted his Captain in such a fashion but he's been angry beyond measure and has felt betrayed by a man, who he has just started to trust again after that whole debacle with Juliette and the key.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The stage is set. One thing is safe to say, Nick will fight with claws and teeth to keep his own matters to himself, zaubertrank and Captain or no.  
> Much care taking but also much snark and stubbornness ahead.


	2. Beneath The Surface

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter sees our reluctant duo thinking things through... and going on confrontation course. ;)

 

 

 

Chapter 2: Beneath The Surface

 

Upon arriving home that night Renard takes off coat, tie and suit jacket, slips out of his shoes and moves right toward his liquor cabinet – calm, measured movements a stark contrast to the turmoil within. Armed with a tumbler filled with much more than a finger of Whisky he sinks into an armchair facing floor length windows, facing all of Portland by night. His expression is one of brooding... an epitome of brooding, royal zauberbiest. It is a facade, though. Not the brooding, oh no, he is rather dissatisfied right now. But nobody would be able to glimpse the sheer depth of his mind's workings. All they would see is a mask of controlled, closely defined discontent without any real feelings attached.

Still....

Frustration churns in his innards. He is neither accustomed to not getting what he wants nor to being unable to manipulate others to make his own ends meet.

_And isn't it most peculiar of all that his own desire at the moment is to see Burkhardt find back to himself? He must be getting delusional._

Still he's done what he's done. It has been... impetuous might be too strong a word for a man, who without fail thinks three steps ahead, but one might say it's been a risky gamble.

…

Yes, confronting Nick with the choice of taking the zaubertrank or facing a work-ban has been a risky gamble on his part. If Nick had ignored his threat and taken leave he would have been out of his sphere of influence. He has put all on one card, going by what he knows about the Grimm, no matter how strange his behaviour has become.

  
In the end Sean's estimation has been spot on, for being banned from work would mean not solving cases and more importantly, not helping others.

  
The zauberbiest is glad that at least Nick’s sense of right and wrong, his thirst to help has remained.

  
As to the rest, only time will tell, if Sean's plan will bear fruits or if he has irrevocably destroyed all ties to the Grimm. 

_But he hasn't, has he?_ The thought is one of bitter amusement to the cynical Prince.

_A tie, established by a powerful zaubertrank no less, responsible for driving two people apart while still forcing them together._

The implications hurt more than they have any right to! But in the end, if his drastic method helps Burkhardt, wouldn’t he even be prepared to be shunned when in exchange it brings back the man he has known?  
 

A bitter and deeply disturbing thought. He's normally not given to flights of altruism.  
The powerful man sighs, for once sure that nobody will hear this show of weakness.  
_Why am I doing this again? There will surely be no gratitude from Burkhardt._

 

_Oh right, there still is this inconvenient infatuation with said Detective._

  
The grip around his tumbler tightens. It is empty already. He has drained it to the last drop without even noticing.

  
While Nick had been with Juliette it had been easy to ignore... necessary to do so, in fact. Sean may have come to realise that he has deeper feelings for the man but he is no fool. Even now he knows that nothing will come out of it. Another sigh, resigned this time. More like a growl showing his primal wesen side. No, he is far from satisfied right now and chances are that he will never gain what he desires.

  
_If I know this, why do those damn feelings persist despite my effort of squashing them?!_  
  
He cannot stop thinking about the Grimm. About anger and rebelliousness, about the predator coming to the surface, unleashing fury and power, pitting everything he's got against Sean. When he finds himself getting hard at the very thought he wants to scream and smash the glass in his hand!

  
But there's another side to all this: What frustrates him as much as Nick's stubbornness is actually seeing him hurt, seeing him desperate because of something... something so deeply hurting that it threatens to pull the ground from under his Grimm’s feet. _His_ Grimm for heaven's sake!!

Sean knows that he's a possessive bastard but this... this possessiveness paired with... what, the need to protect? This is ridiculous in equal measures as it is irrefutably there.

>>>

Nick finds no rest that night. After hours of just trying to get past his anger he's finally gone to bed... without getting a single wink of sleep. He scoots up against the headboard now, drawing his knees to his chest and burying his hands in strands of tousled hair. A frustrated sigh escapes.

He cannot get his head around what Renard's game is.

_This cannot simply be an action from the goodness of his heart. I mean, how could he not be bothered by all the trouble he has because of me, if even **she**... NO! Don't go there! _

His gaze inadvertently strays to the chest of drawers opposite the bed, where once a photo of him and Juliette has resided... where once he's hid an engagement ring. He averts his eyes, finds himself looking at the empty side of their bed. His heart clenches painfully, better not go there either.

_But why would Renard do something as drastic as this just to 'help' me? Why would he care enough? The answer is simple. He wouldn't. If he doesn't care, the disturbing question remains: What is his plan?_

Nick doesn't know and not knowing makes him stir-crazy and brings about a whole new level of anxiousness.

_But what if Renard does care?_

The thought won't leave the Grimm despite his anger at the half-zauberbiest. But he cannot hope for that. Acknowledging that possibility would mean attaching himself... and that would inadvertently bring disappointment, when Renard leaves upon finding Nick to be too much of a hassle to take care of.

He doesn't even want to think about why exactly the thought of Renard leaving makes his heart clench just as much as that other thought does, so he shoves away that possibility rather forcefully. Much better to ponder why that impossible man would go to such lengths to bind a subordinate, who also happens to be a Grimm, to himself.

_It isn't even as if he were more than my Captain or as if he were a friend. He's more of an ally... and that only when he's not busy ordering my aunt's death or stealing a key for his creepy family or thinking up some other underhanded schemes._

Old anger resurfaces paired with unease but this time Nick stamps down on both emotions before they can fully bloom.

He has to think this through with a cool head.

He is aware that his assertions from moments ago are not entirely true.

_Renard has done some good things. He's given back the key and he's been great in that whole mess of my zombification... and he's helped me when J... when someone else wouldn't do so._

_Anyway, no matter why the Captain wants to do this, he shouldn't need to babysit me! I'm a grown man. I should be independent. I shouldn't need anyone to take care of me... I should be the one to take care of others... to be strong._

So why does the thought of all this hurt so damn much?

He buries his head in his hands, thinking back to that night although his heart wants to shatter and his breath catches in his throat.

_It has felt so good... to be taken care of... to be safe._

But he has seen what happens when he's stupid enough to expect that of somebody. He cannot make them take care of him, not his friends or Renard or... well that's past, anyway.

Being a burden by asking for help would mean they would leave... which is something Nick cannot stomach. He doesn't want to loose his friends!

So the answer is simple:

Don't let them see you hurt, don't put them in danger, then they will stick with you instead of deciding you are too much of a liability.

It's needless to say that even with that plan firmly in mind Nick doesn't get any sleep that night.

>>>

Rosalee is snuggled up to her beloved blutbad ensconed in their bed late in the evening. His big hand cards through her hair, which she loves, and yet she cannot find rest. Of course Monroe can smell her worries a mile against the wind... literally most likely.

"Okay Hon, what is the matter? You're sending off worry vibes from here to Mount Hood."

She bites her lips, buries her face into his chest for a moment.

"Nick and the Captain have visited me in the Spice Shop today."

"Oh. You mean as in, they arrived seperately but at the same time?"

"No, as in: they arrived together and have planned to do so."

"Why do you sound so... not enthused by that?"

And so she tells him everything that’s transpired. For a long time after that Monroe silently contemplates her words. When finally he speaks his mien shows clearly how conflicted he is about the matter.

"Ouch. I mean, I'm kind of swaying between 'What the hell is that Prince playing at' and 'Yay, maybe he can help where we are stumped'... and isn't that creepy all on its own?"

>>>

“Hey, partner. You okay? Don't get me wrong, but you do look a bit crappy this morning.”

“Why, thank you, Hank.” At Nick's sarcastic tone the Afro-American holds up his hands in a gesture of appeasement.

“Just saying, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah, tell that somebody, who believes you. You just said I look crappy, I'm not sure if I should feel insulted. Anyway, I was just late in getting to bed so there you have the reason from my oh so crappy look.”

“Ah, too little beauty sleep. Just try not to make that a habit. We can't have you looking crappy all the time, can we? How should we find you a nice girl or bloke for you otherwise, huh?”

Hank laughs at Nick's mock glare and quite suddenly the Grimm feels his own small laugh bubble up. He appreciates that his partner is one of the few people, who don't treat him with kid gloves where his ex-girlfriend is concerned... and who takes in stride that he's bisexual although Juliette was the woman he's wanted to marry. Still, he must have glared quite hard for Hank adds:

“Can I appease you with donuts and Starbucks coffee?”

“Maybe. We'll see about that when....”

“Hey, Griffin, Burkhardt, Captain wants to see you. Said he wants an update on your progress.” That's Franko, making his way over from Renard's office and past their desks.

“Sure thing. Come on, Nick, time to tell the Captain about our practically non-existent progress.”

When he looks down on his partner after rising from his seat and grabbing their case file he's quite surprised to find that all levity from moments ago has vanished from his features. On the contrary, Nick seems wary and tense all of a sudden. Hank decides play ignorant for now. Better wait and see what's up with those two.

“Nick, you coming?”

“Yeah, sorry. Just spaced out for a sec. Being tired and all that, you know?”

They make their way over to Renard's office without further stalling.

>>>

Upon seeing Hank and Nick Renard notices at once how tired and worn out their Grimm Detective looks. It concerns him, but then again, he is quite sure that the reason for his apparent tiredness is their discussion from the evening before. Further proof of that is, of course, Nick's frosty demeanour. Oh yes, he's definitely still angry at him.

When they report Nick doesn't talk at all, except when he's asked a direct question. And even then his answers are clipped and his tone terse. His stance speaks of defensiveness, arms are crossed over his chest and he's positioned leaning against the office window as though he wants to get away as far from Renard as possible. Griffin keeps shooting him inquisitive looks but Burkhardt doesn't show a sign of having noticed... although he sure as hell has.

“Is that all?” Nick asks when Renard has enquired about every detail pertaining their investigation and seems about finished. He knows he is rude and that Hank is disconcerted by his hostile behaviour but he cannot help himself. Seeing the Captain so soon after all that's happened is like ripping open barely healed wounds again.

The Prince's glare speaks volumes of just what he thinks about Nick's brash behaviour but he doesn't verbally reprimand him for it either.

“Yes, Detective, that is all for now. Just remember to report any important... _developments_ back to me.”

Hank for his part is sure there's an elephant sized matter that he isn't getting but he can hardly ask what's going on between them, so he just follows Nick when he makes a stormy retreat.

From the door he shoots Renard one last inquisitive look. The man gives a nearly imperceptible nod before saying loudly:

“Hank, stay behind for a moment. I have reached a decision regarding that free day you've requested.”

The senior Detective doesn't miss a beat.

“Oh, yeah. That free day because of my god-daughter's award ceremony at school.”

He has actually made that request, only that Renard has already told him that he can have the day off. Anyway, that's been while Nick has been in hospital and he hasn't told him yet, so it makes for a perfect excuse.

He steps back inside and closes the door behind him to shut out anyone in hearing range.

Facing his Captain at last, he asks what's been burning on his tongue ever since he's noticed Nick's reaction to Renard's presence:

“Okay, what has happened to make Nick want to avoid you like plague, Sir?”

His own tone is neither hostile nor accusing. He is relatively sure that it's all connected to the Captain's promise to get to the heart of is wrong with his partner lately.

A faint quirk of lips appears, as if he's amused at Hank's wording despite himself, before he turns serious again and makes to elaborate.

“As you very well know I talked to Nick yesterday evening. It hasn't yielded much... to put it lightly.”

Hank is surprised to find that Renard is really frustrated by that fact. After all, if the man lets his cool facade crack enough to actually show his discontent, it must really be bothering him.

“Okay. But seeing Nick's behaviour just now I cannot help feeling like that hasn't been all.”

“It hasn't.” Renard's tone is heavy with brooding. He pinches the bridge of his nose before visibly pulling himself together – donning the mask of an imperturbable man.

“Before asking Nick in for our talk I took preparations in case that wouldn't yield the desired result. In the end I made him take the _Lebensbund trank_.”

The kehrseite Detective frowns in consideration.

“Sounds like that is German and wesen.”

An appreciative incline of the Prince's head along with the ghost of a smile.

“You are right. It is a zaubertrank that will let me know whenever your partner is injured or otherwise incapacitated... health wise, of course.”

“I cannot see that going over well.”

“It didn't. I recall him calling me a manipulative bastard.”

A sharp intake of breath from the Afro-American. They both know Renard could warn him off for insubordination because of that alone. The half-zauberbiest continues, sparing him an answer.

“I have to give it to him that my method of action was a bit drastic. If he hadn't taken the zaubertrank I would have put him on medical leave, deeming him unfit for active Police work. Now he is to report to me every time he encounters an injury or other ailment, immediately and truthfully. If he doesn't adhere to these requirements he will face a four week suspension. Time will tell, if it's enough to curb his self-destructive tendencies... at the very least it will give us more time to find out what the core of the matter is.”

Hank is a seasoned Detective but hearing those words and seeing Captain Renard sitting behind his desk with an expression of relentless authority makes for one uncomfortable feeling in his gut. And he isn't even the one in trouble with the Captain!

“No offence, sir, but I can really see that riling him up. Nick might be a guy as good-natured as you can find him but he is also stubborn as hell and hates to be patronized. He won't take all that without a fight.... Oh well, but I am sure you've already noticed.”

“One could say I am familiar with Burkhardt on war path.”

Some darker emotion crosses over Hank's features for a moment. Sean has no doubt that he's thinking back to the less peaceful twists of their relationship over the years.

“I'm all for it, if it helps Nick, but there is one last thing I need to ask.”

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for confronting his commanding officer with motives, which have been less than stellar in the past. When he looks Renard in the eye at last there's no hesitation or fear in his eyes. No, Hank Griffin is a brave man, who does not shy away from defending his friends, even if that means going against a powerful man like Sean Renard.

“Tell me, how do we know that the... zaubertrank does just that and is not influencing Nick in any other way?”

Sean has expected this. In fact he would have been disappointed if Hank hadn't asked. He wouldn't be a good partner or friend, if he hadn't. He holds the other man's gaze unflinchingly.

“I am aware that in the past I did not have Nick's best interests in heart... on more than one occasion. But that has changed.”

For once the eloquent Royal is short for words. He is unsure how much of his feelings he should reveal to Griffin.

_Well, it seems I have to reveal some, at least. Now, how to go about this?_

Hank seems to be aware of his inner struggle as he waits for him to continue without speaking.

“I have found – to my great surprise – that recently there have been few things more disquieting for me than the thought of... Nick... hurting you may call it. I am prepared to go to great lengths to keep your partner from doing that to himself – thus the potion and my willingness to have Nick hate me for this.”

The man's face is an impenetrable mask but still all this has told Hank so much more than the Captain is probably aware of. He has seen a glimpse of something hidden, of something vulnerable and he is almost sure that it has something to do with deeper feelings Renard may harbour for his friend. Not that he is stupid enough to tell the proud man that.

“Okay. Now what about that zaubertrank?”

A smirk now, acknowledging his persistence.

“We went to check with Rosalee. She examined the brew and explained to Nick what it does.”

“I'm satisfied with that for now. If I can be of help, let me know. He is not only my partner but my friend and I don't like at all what is going on with him at the moment.”

“Neither do I.” A sigh heavy with a hint of deeper emotions, let out before those feelings are reigned back in. Hank knows, if he didn't know his Captain for as long as he did, he would not have been able to detect it at all.

>>>

When Hank returns to his partner's side there are no negative emotions visible at all. It puts the older man on alert. He knows Nick for about five years now and is sure of one thing: If he cannot tell there is anything wrong with his partner after what has just transpired in their Captain's office, then Nick is actively hiding it. This in turn does not bode well at all.

“Hey, Hank. Nice to join me after all. While you have discussed holiday plans with Renard I have been able to locate the latest address of our vic's brother." 

“That's great, and by the way, I did get the day off, so now I'll finally be able to tell Carly I'll be there when she gets awarded for her school achievements.”

“Good thing for you, partner. And let me tell you, it's doubly good because you don't want to be confronted with an angry coyotl girl.”

Nick's teasing grin nearly manages to fool Hank into abandoning his intended line of questioning. Nick is disconcertingly good. Time to push a little bit. 

“Warning duly noted. Apropos confrontation, any reason why you made an ice cube pale in regards to frostiness there in the Captain's office?”

This time the seasoned Grimm cannot to hide a slip of his expression before it occurs. Actually it takes him a moment to school a darkening of his features away into neutrality. Somehow Hank is glad his partner is not as good as Renard at hiding his emotions.

“No reason at all.” Heavy sarcasm. The senior Detective just raises an eyebrow, prompting Nick to continue with a frustrated sigh.

“He's just been a prig about my sick time. Saying stupid, unfounded things. It's not as if I've inconvenienced anyone.”

“Maybe his problem was that it's been the other way 'round. He may be one hell of a taskmaster as a Captain most of the time but he does care, you know?”

“Oh, come on! Not you, too!! What is this, some conspiracy to make me out as worst, most stupid Detective of the year? Just leave it, will you? Now, if you are through with bashing your partner, can we, please, just get back to our case?!”

The Grimm's response is as unexpected as it is explosive! It is a fierce, if quiet hiss and he fairly radiates annoyance and something deeper, more leaning towards fear or maybe defensiveness.

“Woah, Nick. Just askin'. You cannot fault a guy for being worried. And yes, we can get back to our case now. Questioning done.”

“Finally.” Nick mutters before he makes an effort to stop biting Hank's head off.

For some time atmosphere is tense but after a rather halting exchange about their recent vic Nick heaves an explosive sigh and seeks out his partner's gaze with a sheepish expression.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you like that. Guess I am just a bit stressed out lately.”

“No harm done, partner. We all have our hormonal days. Happened to my ex-wives as well... about once a month.”

Nick punches him playfully while sporting a mock glare and for now they have found back to their uncomplicated partnership. Hank is worried by his friend's behaviour but it seems for the time being he cannot do anything other than being there for him and trusting that Renard knows what he is doing.

They do not know that now, but it won't take more than a few days for that to be tested for the first time.

>>>

There's no time to draw his gun. 200 Pound of Dickfellig barrel into him when he steps into the man's path to halt his rush at the livelier main street. Nick has acted on instinct. The man's given off vibes of someone looking for trouble and together with his staggering gait it has Nick worried enough to approach him. Before he can even talk to him the bulky man has woged with a deep roar and moved toward him with incredible speed and force.

_Druggie._

Is the Grimm's only thought as the sheer force of impact drives all air from his lungs and throws him backward. The moment they clash Nick knows that he is in trouble. Under normal circumstances he would have been able to fight a Dickfellig, however tough that fight may have been, but this one is up to his nose into drugs, which gives him strength far beyond the norm.

He hits unforgiving ground with his back but rolls into a crouch at once. It's easy, either he ignores pain and breathlessness in order to move or that Dickfellig will simply run him over. There are unsuspecting civilians on the dangerously near main street so he steps right into his path again, this time slightly better prepared.

It's no use, though. It is as if the man has gone berserk!

“Portland Police Department, freeze!” Nick shouts although he barely has the breath to do so. No reaction, the man takes him on again, at least changing direction from the main street to him, but the Grimm is too winded to properly dodge his assault and is thrown back once more and into a pile of trash. 

_Fuck! Same spot again! But Hank must be on his way by now. Just need to hold out a bit longer!_

“Portland Police Department, freeze at once or I will be forced to shoot!”

Hank's powerful shout rings out. He must have heard Nick's first warning.

Nick staggers to his feet and backwards, farther away from their approaching perp, stamping down on pain and ailment until he has completely detached himself from both. He schools his features into a blank mask, making Hank think that the worst thing that's happened to him has been landing in a pile of trash.

“Hank, Dickfellig on drugs!” He doesn't yell loud enough for anyone on the other street to hear him – cannot shout any louder no matter how much he detaches himself – but Hank understands at once.

The druggie doesn't stop his rush, a shot echoes through the small side street.

>>>

“You all right, partner?” The Afro-American gives him a concerned once over but Nick has gotten rather good at hiding and shrugs it off with a grin.

“I'm fine. Let's drive back to precinct and then call Wu to see, if that thug has reached hospital without incidents.”

Hank's frown remains for a moment longer, then he nods and makes his way to their car alongside of Nick. Five minutes ago dispatch has send a few broad-shouldered officers to take their perp to hospital as per Hank's request, which leaves them free to go back now.

>>>

Captain Renard just signs a report when it happens:

A tingle, a sharp sting, a clenching of his guts that has nothing to do with the bond and everything with a sudden streak of worry for his Grimm.

_What has happened?_

Sean stares down on the paper in front of him with distaste. In his surprise at the sudden sensation his pen has slipped badly. Oh well, it will have to do. Without haste he puts the finished report away, moves from his seat and over to his office door and pulls it slightly ajar.

_Let the games begin. Now I will see, if Nick heeds my warning._

He moves back to his desk, immerses himself in more paperwork – or at least seems that way to an outsider – and waits for his Grimm to return and report. Skilfully the half-zauberbiest ignores the feeling of gnawing worry... well, sometimes skilful just isn't enough.

_I hope that stubborn man is not injured seriously. Really, some day that Grimm will be the death of me._

>>>

It is half an hour later, Sean is still in his office pretending to do anything other than simply waiting for his Detective's return. What clues him in on Nick's presence is not some sixth sense or the bond but Sergeant Wu mercilessly teasing Burkhardt about smelling of trash. When Hank then proceeds to tell the Asian that Nick's smell is originated in being bowled over by their perp and pushed into a pile of loot, Renard tenses, grip tightening around his fountain pen.

After hearing this he can imagine quite well what has happened to the younger Detective.

_Let him come to you. Patience is a virtue._

He thinks this and tries to feel those words to be more than ramblings of empty hope. 

>>>

After another ten minutes of watching Nick pretending to do paperwork through the windows of his office and the zauberbiest Captain inwardly growls in frustration.

_Who are you kidding, Prince? That impossibly thick-headed Grimm won't come on his own. Patience may be a virtue but showing idiotism by letting yourself be fooled is a far greater sin!_

He rises from behind his desk, schools his features into traces of a disapproving frown and steps out of his office into the main room.

“Detective Burkhardt, into my office.”

He hasn't snapped or shouted. His tone is clipped and devoid of emotion, making his Detective aware of his displeasure without alarming the whole station. The Grimm catches his gaze, eyes narrowing, lips compressing in a silent show of mutiny. The Captain raises a single eyebrow in challenge and gives a minute jerk of his head. Nick doesn't react, pretending rather half-heartedly to be occupied with papers.

“I think you have heard me, Burkhardt, step inside.”

His tone has turned icy by now, showing his waning patience and utter seriousness to the Grimm while giving the rest of his subordinates a vague feeling of unease.

Finally Nick complies, stepping into the office without greeting or acknowledging him. His movements – Sean notices as the younger man storms past him – are almost normal, are almost completely hiding a telltale stiffness of gait and hesitancy at moving. The Captain is not fooled, though. All his life good observational skills have meant survival for the powerful 'biest. Needless to say he has perfected them.

>>>

“Close the door and the blinds.”

Nick does so before turning to his Captain, arms crossed in front of his chest. His mouth is a thin line. It is clear that he won't talk without prompting.

“In case you were wondering, the bond responded to whatever has happened to you and alerted me. Now is there anything you wish to tell me?”

“Honestly, how should I know when to _report_ , if I don't know which things you are aware of?”

“You are changing the subject and that is the very point: You will tell me about _each_ and _every_ injury or other ailment you receive. You won't be able to detect if I am aware or not, so you better be diligent in your reports. You know the consequences of refusing, so I advice you not to make your choice lightly.”

Anger bubbles up again, thought it is contained within. Nick has learned to hide but Sean is highly attuned to anyone's attempt at disguising emotions. And also he detects a sliver of doubt in his Detective's expression. Good. That means he doesn't take his words lightly. He is aware that he has been warned and is wary of the consequences.

“Now, do you have anything to tell me?”

He sits down in his chair without losing any of the imposing air he is projecting, steepling long fingers in front of him, gaze never leaving Nick's. It is obvious that he is having an inner struggle. In the end Nick speaks up, though the result is not what Sean has hoped for:

“I don't know what to tell you, Sir, there was no injury to speak of. That concoction cannot be working right.”

He looks for all the world like he believes his own words. Sean knows better. If there is something he is proficient at it is all forms of lying – even lying to oneself, he will admit.

The Bastard Prince pinches the bridge of his nose, sharp gaze acquiring a note of disappointment.

“You leave me with no other choice then.”

A short pause. He can see the seasoned Grimm tense. The Captain rises from behind his desk slowly and moves around to the front while never letting Nick out of his sight.

“Detective Burkhardt, lift your shirt.”

Nick stares at him as if he has gone crazy. Not something that does anything for his patience levels. He opens his mouth a few times as if to say something but in the end closes it with a snap. He whirls around, clearly intending to leave the office.

“This is... this is ridiculous.” Fierce words, spoken under his breath as he makes to grab the door handle.

“Nicholas, I did not ask you to leave this room, I ordered you to lift your shirt as you are obviously unable to report verbally!”

Disapproval and tightly controlled emotions simmering underneath the surface of his Captain's self-restraint. It stops him dead in his tracks. 

Control... something that Nick feels slipping from him by the minute. Furthermore he hates Renard for the fact that this single sentence has such an effect on him.

_Nicholas!? Seriously? It's been decades since anyone called me that! And damn that trice cursed man for managing to affect me in that way at all!_

He turns around slowly to face his superior once again. The man is tall, imposing, not giving an inch. But Nick is stubborn and not easily cowed.

“Tell me, Captain, is this fun for you?” He even takes to step toward the other man as he says this.

“Does it make you feel good to put me in my place? To make me do something as degrading as what you demand?”

Sharp accusation to divert attention away from Nick's wrong-doings. He wants him to get angry. Sean puts a tight lid on his own growing irritation. He will not be played with. He cannot let Nick win. If the Grimm does then Sean will loose the man he has admitted to care for just days ago in presence of Detective Griffin. He will not let that happen. It is simply a matter of selfishness... or so he tells himself.

“No, to be honest, all this is quite vexing for me. And I wouldn't have to do this, if you would behave less like an immature adolescent.”

“Then why do you bother?!”

A bitter scoffing noise from his zauberbiest Captain.

“Oh no, Nick. You won't get rid of me so easily. And now you will lift your shirt to let me access the injuries I know you have acquired or you can pack up your things and go! No matter what, I won't have one of my Detectives go into work when he is unfit to do so. Now move or leave.”

For long moments they are locked in this silent battle, then Nick's hands move to the hem of his henley shirt – slowly, as if stalling for time and at the same time showing him that he only does so because he has no other choice. The whole time those grey eyes burn into him as if intent on roasting him alive. Sean takes it with barely a twitch of expression, staring right back and waiting for the Grimm to comply. Nick is tense, his movements stiff. This is not only discomfort at the situation, the Grimm is hurting.

The realisation that Nick is suffering makes a dominant streak, that may as well be fierce protectiveness, rear its head and strengthen Renard's resolve to see this through no matter what.

The skin revealed is one big, dark and ugly bruise, spanning the whole left side of his torso. Of course, Nick knows this and it doesn't make standing half-naked in front of the powerful Royal any easier to bear. Renard doesn't say anything, just lets his eyes rove over each minute detail with a look of cool calculation. Nick scolds himself a coward but in face of such blatant evidence to his lies he cannot look at him.

The Captain also doesn't attempt to touch him, though. He just observes. Nick hears him move around a few paces, most likely to gauge how wide spread that bruise is. He swallows, the sound seeming unnaturally loud to his own ears.

He wants to ask, if they are quite finished now, wants to make some flippant remark, but somehow all words stay stuck in his throat. He remains absolutely motionless, still staring at some point along the far wall of the office. He feels vulnerable and laid bare, hates feeling like this. He needs to be able to protect himself. There's nobody else there to do that.

“You may lower your shirt again.”

Those quietly spoken words startle him. He lets the fabric fall back down nonetheless, seasoned enough not to show his surprise.

He watches the Royal warily as he rounds his desk without another word and takes up the stationary phone there. Pushing one of the speed dial buttons the man waits for the other end of the line to pick up, not even sparing him a glance.

  
"This is Captain Renard. Dr. Williamson, I will send Detective Burkhardt over to you in a few moments. He's acquired some injuries while on duty that need to be checked and possibly treated."

  
A short pause before Renard speaks up again. Nick follows the exchange with ever growing disbelief.

  
"Yes, he is able to get to you under his own steam.... Good.... Please report your findings to me afterwards so that I know if he's fit for work or if I need to put him on sick leave.... Yes, thank you."

  
Renard ends the call while pinning his Detective with a stern gaze and raising an eyebrow in expectance.

  
"Well, Burkhardt, what are you waiting for? If I remember correctly your sense of hearing ranks above average, so I am sure you know where you are expected."

  
Of course he has heard the whole conversation but Nick is not going to take any of this nonsense!

  
"You cannot simply send me to precinct med like I am some little boy taken to see the school nurse!"  
"I can and I will. And by the way, funny that you should mention such a fitting comparison."

  
Nick's glare darkens considerably. He wants to retort - something rude most likely - but Renard cuts him off.

  
"I want to hear no more excuses or anything else for that matter. You have already scraped by so close to being suspended today that you should think very closely about what you say or do now."

  
"Why the hell are you doing all this?"  
There's anger alright, but there is also such honest confusion about the whole concept of his persistence that it makes something deep inside the Royal ache for his Grimm. He takes a deep breath to keep himself from snapping like he did moments ago.

  
"Whatever you may think my reasons are, I won't stand by while you put youself down. I know that you are normally not like this and I will be damned if I watch you submit to whatever destructive force is driving you!"

  
His voice has risen by the end, not in anger but fueled by the desire to make Nick see. The Grimm just stares at him, but across his face a turmoil of emotions plays. There is surprise, hope, wariness and all that paired with a feeling Sean cannot place. For once the Grimm doesn't shout or rebel. He looks for all the world like he cannot believe anyone would find him worthy of their time and thoughts. That realisation alone makes the distanced Royal hurt more than he would have thought possible.

  
"Nick, go to precinct med and have your injuries checked and treated. If he pronounces you fit you may return to Hank and your current case."

  
This is said calmly and without his usual commanding undertone. It is a peace offering of smalest scale. Nick looks unsure and hesitates for a long time but in the end he gives a slight nod. On his way to the door he turns around once more.

  
"I just don't want to be a bother to anyone."  
It is an admission clear as day, and a way out for the Prince. Needless to say Sean doesn't take it. On the contrary, he has the feeling that his next words are the most important ones he will utter today:  
"You are not a bother, Nick, you are one of my Detectives and not just under my command but under my protection as well."

  
It seems he is right because there on Nick’s expressive face blooms a positive emotion for the first time in days. There are still doubts but this is definitely a beginning. 

>>>

Nick gets his bruises bandaged and himself scolded by Williamson. It is a fairly light reprimand, however, as the sturdy doctor is more than familiar with all the little quirks and behavioural patterns of cops. He advices him to avoid getting thrown across the place again for the next days but otherwise deems him fit for work.

"What will you tell the Captain?" He asks somewhat wary. Williamson gives a wry chuckle.

"What I just told you, lad: make sure your Detective doesn't get bashed around in the near future but otherwise I see no reason why he shouldn't return to his duties."

>>>

Nick has to admit that he feels much better. On a bodily scale this can be put down to bandages supporting his bruised side but deep down on the inside it is something else. He cannot place it, does not want to at this point, because doing that would mean admitting to feelings and attachments he is not prepared to, but something has irrevocably changed. 

He has been lucky today but if he does not want to make a mess of things he has to be careful. Renard has been patient... and a bastard... but he has also helped him... has shown emotions previously hidden... but this cannot continue. Recent experience has taught Nick that it won't end well, if he expects others to take care of him.

He has to distance himself, be more careful. This has been a one time thing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say, there are feelings for sure... but also a whole lot of Problems to work through. ;)


	3. What's Left Unsaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our boys on their next step along the journey... or will that be two steps back?  
> Enjoy and decide for yourself! ;D

Chapter 3 What's Left Unsaid:

 

The last three weeks have been fairly good as far as Nick is concerned. There have been no mishaps, he's solved two cases with Hank and they are now working on a third. Being a Grimm and all that bruise from the dickfellig druggie has healed within just a few days which has made for a satisfying change compared to his other injuries from the last two months. He's even had a nice evening with Monroe and Rosalee.

 

_No questions about my behavior, no awkward glances, just a relaxed hang out with two of my best friends. Well, Monroe has asked why we are seldomly chasing bad wesen together nowadays but, thank God, I managed to deflect those questions for now._

He thinks back to that one. In retrospect it has been funny... although at first Monroe's inquiries have made him uneasy:

 

They have been in the blutbad's secluded back garden, each ensconced in a sun lounger – yes, Monroe possesses such things – with a drink in hand and enjoyed the warm evening sun when he has raised the matter.

“Nick, not that I want to complain now that we finally have a peaceful evening without any crazy stuff happening but is there a reason you haven't been pestering me about chasing one or the other wesen baddie with you for, I don't know, the last month?”

His face must have revealed some of his unease before he could school it into an innocent expression. Rosalee's eyes light with concern at once but at his quiet smile it dims slightly. Inwardly he searches frantically for an answer but outwardly he already looks at Monroe with that teasing, exasperated stare that says 'you should already know the answer' and infuriates the blutbad to no end.

“The answer is easy, Monroe.”

_Is it now, Burkhardt? I am curious how you'll maneuver out of that one._

His inner voice sounds all too much like Renard right now.

“Oh, is it?” Monroe's brows draw together at hearing that kind of tone.

“Yes. I am actively working on improving your love life.”

The blutbad's frown grows thunderous while Rosalee seems to swing between amusement and reservation. Holding up his hands in a placating gesture he hurries to continue:

“You remember all those times you nearly bit my head off for barging in and demanding your help when you were just getting ready for a nice date with our favorite fuchsbau?”

“Yes. How could I forget. You really have the worst timing!” A growly grumble revealing his wesen nature all too clearly.

“Well, that's the reason. I try to limit those occasions to a minimum... because I want to become an honorary uncle before I grow old and you two will never have babies, if I keep interrupting you!”

The last comes out in a rush and causes Monroe to spit out his drink and Rosalee to swat him over the head playfully.

“Hey, Mr. Grimm, I think we have a word to say in the matter, so don't you worry your pretty head on the offspring front.”

Her eyes dance with mirth and he's happy to have put it there. Monroe mouthing 'pretty head' in disbelief makes him laugh outright. This time there's no pretense, no need to act. He's happy and that's exactly the reason why he keeps his troubles from them as desperately as he does nowadays. He loves this, loves his friends and he won't jeopardize that!

“Well... nice that you care but... uuuuh... not a matter I want to discuss wit my best buddie. Anyway... (Monroe scratches his head in awkwardness.) you will ask, if you need help, won't you?”

“Yeah, sure.” Nick is aware that Rosalee most likely detects his hesitancy but it will have to do for now. His resolve is still strong, although with it comes a vague ache he cannot place.

_I won't bother or endanger them, I will keep them as friends. Easy, isn't it? Just why does it hurt so much then?_

He pushes these uncomfortable thoughts away and instead concentrates on having a nice evening with Monroe and Rosalee.

 

>>>

 

The end of July in Portland shows itself with warmth and – typical for the City of Roses – with the occasional blast of rain. Nick likes that, all of that. Even getting drenched by rain from time to time. All is well on a general scale... or has been until a few moments ago when Fortuna has decided to have it all in shambles again!

 

_Hurts! Hurts so damn much!_

He cannot see or breathe properly, can just wheeze helplessly!

Moments before he has been chasing an elusive witness, who has turned tail immediately after he's introduced himself as Detective Burkhardt from Portland Police, and now he is standing in some back alley with an unknown powdery substance clinging to his face and desperate to get the burning, irritating stuff off his skin.

He has turned a corner going after the man when suddenly the guy's whirled around to face him and he's been hit by a blast of that trice forsaken clingy powder stuff. The one he' been following and who is wesen by all appearances has spewed it forth right at him. The guy is long gone by now but Nick's problems are not!

His face and lungs burn like hell as he tries to draw in full breath and to rub the stuff out of his streaming eyes. In his shock he's taken quite a lung full as well, which is a real pain in the ass! More coughing and wheezing! He simply cannot stop!

 

It takes inordinately long before his vision returns or he is able to breath somewhat normally again.

 

Still coughing and blinking heavily he drags himself back to his truck, where he sinks onto the driver's seat gratefully. He rests his head onto the steering wheel, just trying to be calm and unmoving for a while. From time to time small bouts of hacking still wrack his frame... and that does not even take into account the general sensation of burning skin and airways.

 

Only when contemplating what to do next, he comes to the uncomfortable realization that Renard has most likely felt this and that he has to tell him, if he wants to evade suspension. A well-known feeling of anger and fear makes itself known.

 

_Why did that damn man have to meddle in my affairs at all? Is it such a fun game for him to manipulate others lives?_

The question that really goes through his head is:

_Nick, why have you been stupid enough to make a mess of things again?!? Why couldn't you simply stay out of trouble and not be a bother to others for once?_

Shame burns in his gut along with a diffuse sense of fear when he contemplates why Renard would even bother with him.

These questions are so much more difficult to stomach, however, so the Grimm takes anger at himself and channels it into lines much easier to cope with: Being pissed at his Captain.

With an already irascible frame of mind he ponders his next actions.

_Damn it! I have to tell him, anyway....If only my face and lungs... and hands wouldn't hurt so much it would be much easier to think how to go about this!_

 

He contemplates calling the man but with how bad his throat feels from inhaling that shit he doubts Renard would actually get a single word of what he's saying. So that leaves texting or driving....

 

Maybe he could make it sound like it hasn't been all that bad (He has a hard time deceiving even himself but he has to try, doesn't he?).

So it is a text message.

>Have accidentally inhaled some irritating substance. Cannot talk on phone just yet but damage is minimal. Just wanted to inform you officially. Dt. Burkhardt.<

Renard's answer is short, to the point and its content far from satisfying.

>Let me be the judge of that. Report to me in person. I am currently at home.<

Squinting down on the text message he wants to growl in frustration.

_Arrgh! How the hell am I supposed to drive to him in this state? Well, telling him that I can't drive after I've texted it wasn't a big deal won't go over well either._

 

He does what he's perfected by now: He ignores burning pain in his eyes, face and lungs to get his cruiser started and onto the road. He'll just have to go slowly, won't he?

 

>>>

 

Nick has never been so glad to be riding an elevator alone. He gets out on 16th floor and reluctantly makes his way over to the door to Renard's flat. It opens before he can even ring the doorbell. How the man knows, Nick cannot say, but most likely he's put the woman at front desk up to alerting him.

 

“Nick, you look like you shouldn't be standing.”

His tone is more worried than accusing but it feels like he is being dissected under the Captain's intense scrutiny, which in turn raises his hackles and a self-defensive streak. All too vividly he remembers the last meeting of this kind. The embarrassment, Renard's persistence. Also the care but he pushes that firmly away.

“Well, I am here, am I not?” He snaps with more hostility than is probably warranted, but to be honest, he's feeling like crap and on top of it all is still wary of the man's motives.

“Yes, you are.” Those calmly spoken words once again pose a stark contrast to his own heated ones.

_Why is it that I cannot seem to retain a cool head around Renard lately?_

 

“And I appreciate it. Do come in and tell me what injuries you have attained and then I will decide, if you require more medical treatment than I am able to give.”

 

A derisive chuckle from his Detective at his first words. Even that quiet sound is a wheeze at best and he certainly looks the part: Eyes, face, hands and throat are beet red and the skin, while not covered in rash or blisters, is irritated to a point where it must be painful to simply exist. He ignores all this for the moment in lieu of motioning his unruly Detective inside.

 

>>>

 

“I was chasing after a witness, who turned out to be unwilling to be questioned, and when I turned around the corner he whirled around and spat some powder at me. I couldn't get out of the way fast enough, so I ended up like this. Needless to say, he got away.”

Frustration at his failure to catch the man and at being forced into this situation. His voice is a hoarse whisper by now, ability to speak deteriorating with each moment that powder still clings to his skin and inner throat.

Of course, the stubborn Grimm has declined his offer to sit so Renard remains standing as well – generally keeping distance but near enough to intervene should things go further downhill. At least he knows from Nick's earlier description what wesen they are dealing with.

“Did you experience any breathing problems afterwards?”

“Not much.” Understatement of the year, though no outright lie. Still, Sean is not pleased. He glares at his Detective, telling him as much without uttering a single word.

“Well, what do you... (A bad bout of coughing interrupts his tirade.) … expect? I got a blast of some irritating powder to the face?!”

The Royal prays for patience and shrouds himself in aloofness.

“I expect, as you very well know, a detailed and truthful account of your injuries.”

The warning is left unspoken. Going by Nick's darkening expression he is very much aware of this.

“You wanna have the whole thing? Okay, here you go, Sir: The powder burned like hell where it came into contact with skin, breathing and seeing was a true bitch afterwards and driving to you was a challenge! Are you quite satisfied now?”

Renard can clearly see things are worsening, even if the infuriating Grimm is too agitated to take notice of his own state.

“More or less. Now was that so difficult? Come on, aren't you glad that this time you've come to me on your own?”

His tone is thick with sarcasm. It is one thing to help Burkhardt but it is quite another to take everything that man throws at him without making his opinion known. Obviously, though, he has underestimated Nick's anger at the situation. Grey eyes narrow, his stance shifts just slightly from bothered to angry and then he is ranting again:

“To be frank, no I am not glad! I would have liked nothing better than to drive home, take a damn shower to wash that stuff off my face and be done with it but...!”

 

His voice has become raw to the point of being horribly painful but he tunes that out. What he cannot ignore is when his throat closes up and leaves him nearly unable to breathe! It happens faster than he can fathom, one moment he's shouting, the next he is desperately trying to get air into his aching lungs. Every intake feels like breathing fire! His hands go to his chest and throat when his knees buckle. He perceives movement beside him but is too panicked to really take notice.

 

“Nick! Calm down! You have to calm down.” He cannot follow those words. There's only an all consuming need to breathe! The edges of his vision start to gray. He is pulled up and moved, his throat and chest burn terribly, then everything goes black.

 

>>>

 

He comes around to find himself kneeling on tiled ground and leaning over the edge of what must be a shower bath. The water's surface is only inches from his face and a large hand clamps down on his neck. Panic instantly flares! His face and hands are wet so he must have been under water before. The hand holding him down so near above the water is a gloved one.

“Wha...? Happ...?”

His words are barely there, vocal cords heavily inflamed. Renard is beside him, is the one holding him in that position.

_What is he doing?!_

When he gets no answer and instead the Royal's second hand moves toward his face terror consumes him and he reacts instinctively:

He jams his elbow hard into the zauberbiest's side, although he's feeling weak as a kitten, and tries to get away from the other man. A low grunt and the impact into a semi-soft surface tell him that he's hit true.

“Nicholas, stop this!” It sounds vaguely as if he hasn't said that for the first time but he's too frightened to understand. He struggles on, only thought in his head that he needs to get away from danger! Any attempt at fleeing is cut short when his arm is grabbed and twisted behind his back. He cries out in pain, moving slightly forward just to ease pressure on his limb. The man's presence draws near, then Renard hisses into his ear:

“Listen closely: If you do not want to risk a serious case of chemical burn to your skin and lungs then you are going to stay still!! You must breathe in hot steam from the water and let me finish washing off that powder from where it still clings to your face!”

 

Nick needs inordinately long to process those words. When he does, some things click into place: His wet face; being held just above water's surface.

“Are you going to cooperate now?”

He tries to still his wildly beating heart, tries to ignore the pain from nearly everywhere and gives a jerky nod.

“Good. Now calm down. You have nothing to fear.”

The grip on his arm loosens, becoming supporting instead of restraining.

As the zauberbiest keeps up a low murmur of words Nick has to admit that it helps soothing him. He slouches slightly, for the first time acknowledging that he feels like crap and needs help.

“I'm going to wash off that stuff now. Just close your eyes and take deep breaths. Steaming vapors are known to ease suffering after this kind of exposition.”

 

For once he obeys without protest and waits while the Captain carefully wipes his burning face; eyelids and cheeks, his lips and even his mouth. A gloved finger runs over the inside of his cheeks, his tongue, as he kneels open mouthed and tries to take even breaths. Renard is wearing crime scene gloves – he explains at some point – to avoid getting powder on his own skin. Excruciatingly slowly Nick begins to feel better. The fire which has burned everywhere dims down to an irritating itch.

 

>>>

 

When Sean is sure that he's got rid of every trace of foreign substance and he notes an easing in his Detective's breathing he pulls him backwards until he is resting with his back against his own broad chest. There is nothing intimate about this – or so he tries to tell himself – and he intents to settle him there just long enough to adjust position but Nick has other ideas:

To his great surprise, instead of trying to get away, the Grimm all but slumps against his bigger frame. He looks down upon a mob of semi wet hair, upon a beet red face, and most peculiar of all, upon the closed eyes and relaxed features of one Nick Burkhardt. He opens his mouth to say something but a tiny, unconsciously uttered sigh from the Grimm stops him short.

Staring at the man in his arms two things become clear:

For one, Nick isn't aware of just what he is doing, of what he is revealing, and for a second he is accepting help and his own need for it.

Silently and with utmost care he takes up a towel and gently begins to dab at Nick's face to dry it. Inwardly he's coiled as tight as a spring, ready to move as soon as the Grimm shows any signs of being uncomfortable with their positions. Still, this is... precious... and the cool headed zauberbiest finds himself aching at the thought of Nick wanting to get away from him. He scolds himself a fool but the feeling remains.

He needn't have worried, though. By some miracle Nick isn't poised for a fight, doesn't even stir other than to take deep breaths.

 

>>>

 

Nick feels Renard pull him away from the shower bath and back against his chest. He should protest, he should distance himself but he cannot help it. Just now, resting against the other man, steady heartbeat against his back and finally feeling better, he acknowledges for the first time how incredibly good this feels! Not just resting here with his eyes closed, but everything. The care, even that commanding persistence, everything he cannot have for fear of getting used to it and then lose it.

 

For one moment, though, he revels in it. He isn't aware of all he is doing, only that it feels good and that Renard is not pushing him away, yet.

 

>>>

 

Nick is sitting on the floor with his back against the tiled wall, blinking heavily to clear his still streaming eyes. A few moments earlier he's finally found the strength to pull away from the zauberbiest and built up his innate walls again.

No matter how wonderful that has felt, isn't that exactly what has gotten me hurt so badly last time around?

 

Right now Renard has left the room to fetch something.

 

“Tilt your head back.” The command startles him. He hasn't heard the man approach.

“Why?”

Wariness is rearing its ugly head again. He has let down his guard. He cannot afford to do that. Doing it means getting hurt.

Sean keeps in a frustrated growl with difficulty. Moments before he's hoped – foolishly one might say – that Nick has seen sense, that finally he has overcome whatever has been troubling him but in a single word they are back to square one!

“Just do it.”

His answer comes out more snappish than he's meant to but he cannot find it in himself to amend the statement.

 

Renard sounds just this side of annoyed, which in turn makes Nick tense up again.

_Here it comes. I'm too much of a hassle. He will just...._

He doesn't finish the thought and instead seeks out other, less painful emotions. Anger is a good one... and sarcasm makes for a good weapon.

 

Something icy cold touches his face and he hisses in shock but doesn't jerk back. It is a wet linen cloth placed on his face to soothe the remaining ache there. He's actually glad that it's covering his face right now. To his embarrassment he's obeyed Renard's command without even noticing.

 

>>>

 

“You've had your fun now, having me kneeling and at your mercy?”

His words are muffled by the cloth but the sarcasm is still sharp. All the more surprised he is at hearing a quiet chuckle. Renard sounds as if he is amused against his will.

“You would be surprised how many a Royal could get off on having a Grimm kneel at their feet.”

His hand strays to the cloth. He wants to see if Renard has been joking or serious.

“Leave it on.”

To his relief Nick complies for once, although he does it with an annoyed sigh. It is better that the perceptive Grimm doesn't see his expression right now. His own face – normally an impenetrable mask – shows too much emotion at Nick's coarse words. He's slipping. No matter how well he's disguised all that with his own response, Nick makes him feel and do things that he would never have considered before. It angers and frightens him. He is a powerful man. He should have more control!

 

>>>

 

They both stew in silence while they wait for that cold compress to do its work.

After some time Renard speaks up again, quietly and just a bit more amicable:

“Now let me see.” Nick obeys without protest this time.

 

The touch of Renard's fingertips against his jaw is light as he turns his head this way and that to gauge any remaining damage. His scrutiny is intense, taking into account every detail, and yet not as disquieting as last time around. After a few moments of this Nick has to acknowledge that nothing bad or embarrassing will happen. He relaxes under the touch almost against his will.

 

The tall zauberbiest rises from his crouch to fetch yet another item from his medicine cabinet. Sean takes that time rummaging through the small cupboard to gather himself. Nick letting him near, allowing his touch and relaxing visibly... it gives him a feeling of power. Not the kind that a position of influence brings with it... not a tainted kind of power. It is more like the satisfaction of making him feel better, feel at ease. It is a feeling formerly foreign to him and, frankly, he is not sure what weighs heavier: Elation at this step forward or fear of how much Nick Burkhardt changes him.

 

With a silent sigh he finally takes out a small jar and returns to his Detective. Nick regards him with something that isn't wariness anymore. It is softer around the edges somehow, less hostile. He responds in kind, explaining things instead of simply doing them.

“I intent to apply a cream that will cure the last of damage. Is that okay?”

Nick gives a slight nod, not saying anything, just holding his gaze.

“Good. Close your eyes. I will be careful.”

It takes overcoming nearly all of his own defensive instincts to make himself comply. He waits, tense now and full of nervous anticipation, what the Captain will do. When something cool and gooey touches his cheek he starts slightly, but when those skilled fingers begin to massage in that cream with infinite care he cannot help but slump in relief. Had anyone asked him he would have said being treated with his eyes closed would be uncomfortable but now that he experiences it – this pure input of sensations without seeing the man's expression, without seeing judgment – is a completely new feeling, indeed.

_This feels so good. Whatever else one can say about the Captain but he is great at this._

_Is this what it feels like to be taken care of? Is this how you can let go and just let another one take charge for once_?

For a few precious moments he revels in those foreign sensations: Feather light touch, sure, skilled, warm where it comes into direct contact with his skin. It is heaven, it is...

A heavy, cold and cruel feeling twists his gut suddenly and takes away all comfort in a single stroke! It is like flying high before crashing to the ground face first! A realization hits him, making him nauseous.

_Isn't this what you feared?! Can you really attach yourself like this without shattering when it ends? This is feeling **too good**. I cannot risk it! I need to get away, but how?_

 

Panic settles in his innards. It's happened again. He cannot let it go on. He needs to end this now.

_… I need to drive Renard away, make him want to distance himself!_

 

Sean feels the shift of emotions without being able to place what it could mean. It disquiets him but he has to go on. He cannot let Nick learn of his uncertainty.

 

“Now, back to my earlier question: What is your gain of binding a Grimm to yourself.”

The question comes completely unexpected. It is sharp with distrust... it is like a punch to the gut. Sean Renard is a shrewd man, however. He does not let on that he's been touched by this comment in any way, even when stormy gray eyes open and capture his own with their intense stare.

He turns hurt into anger and that into a cold drawl:

“I have no gain in this, Burkhardt. If I had wanted to bind you to me I would have let you self-destruct, picked up the pieces and molded you into what I wanted you to be. I didn't, no matter how ungrateful you are to the fact. You are a Detective. Use your thick head!”

There's just enough darkness in the Royal's gaze to let Nick know that he could have pulled that off. It makes him shudder inwardly but also strengthens his resolve. Renard's own verbal blow doesn't even rile him up.

 

_It is good. It is what I've wanted, isn't it? It is too dangerous. Renard is too good at manipulating others to his desire._

This is what he desperately tries telling himself and yet it is the most feeble excuse he's ever heard.

“I am sure you would have. Now I need to be going. Thanks... thanks for your help... I already feel better. But...I need to be going.”

Those words feel like dust on his tongue but he cannot take them back. All at once he experiences an almost panicked need to leave the Captain's condo. This isn't out of fear, though, not fear for manipulation on the zauberbiest's part, anyway.

No, Nick Burkhardt is deathly afraid that he could say something to amend his cruel words, if he stays even one moment longer. His heart wants the opposite of what his mind is telling him. He realizes that now and it tears something inside him. Too many warring emotions, too much fear. He needs to get away!!

 

>>>

 

Sean remains in the same position as when he's treated Nick even long after the man has fled from his rooms.

_Damn it!! Where did I go wrong this time?! There's been progress. I've seen it. And now it's all nil and void again. What is Burkhardt's problem? This cannot be about distrust, not in the way we've warred over on other occasions... when we were unsure of each others allegiances. What the hell is troubling my Grimm?_

He wants to be angry, wants it to be only his hurt pride or frustration at a plan thwarted like it has been in the past but this is so much more! Here alone in his condo his breath catches in his throat as emotions twist inside of him that he has never experienced before.

There are so many negative, resigned feelings raging within him that in a fit of lost control he woges and rams his fist into the wall.

Tiles split, there's a dent where he's connected... his fist smarts fiercely but still not as fiercely as that thing does, that he hadn't known he possessed.

His heart.

He shakes out his hand while his zauberbiest slides back beneath the surface.

_Isn't it a wonderful thing that the bond does not go both ways?_

Sarcasm thick and heavy.

With a growl he rises from his crouch, stands erect and proud.

_I won't give up. I am stronger than this. I've survived assassination attempts from my family, I will weather this storm as well. It is easy, either I manage to fix Nick or it will be my own perish._

 

>>>

 

That night Nick's dreams are filled with visions of being held, safe and warm, and being cared for. When he wakes up hours later it is with a forlorn moan. Earlier on his way home he's felt a short, weird sting in his chest. He is sure now that it must have been his heart clenching with all the hurt. What else could it have been, after all?

He curls up in bed now and wills those desires away.

It hurts.


	4. When You Break Free

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff ahead! For once Nick's head won't meddle with what his heart desires... for reasons. ;D

 

Chapter 4: When You Break Free

 

They make it through August without any mishaps. Although neither would ever tell the other Nick and Renard are both glad for it. And it is visible in their interaction as well:

Those first few days after his run in with a powder spitting wesen Nick has been prickly and his demeanor toward the Captain cold. He hasn't been outright sassy or insulting but every fiber of his body seemed to have screamed: Stay the hell away from me!

Slowly, oh so slowly now the Detective begins to relax around his Captain again while Renard for his part stops behaving like an overprotective mother hawk. Definitely things Hank is grateful for as it not only makes working so much easier but also it makes getting those two together seem more probable. That last thought has only occurred to him a few days ago, when he's seen his partner and his Captain work together on a case:

 

It's been a joined operation with Drugs Division. Their murder suspect has coincidentally been one of the top drug dealers of 'Portland Tigers', a vicious gang which DD has planned to make a move against for months now. When it's turned out that most members of said gang are wesen Captain Renard has contacted their neighboring division on the matter of a JO.

 

So a week later a group of 15 heavily armed officers from Drugs and Homicide Division has made their move, taking down the entire gang and thereby also closed a recent murder investigation.

Nick and Hank have been among them as well as Captain Renard. He's waited and fought with them, adorned in a bullet proof vest, dark cargo pants and combat boots like the rest of them. The truly astonishing part has come later, though, when storming into the building with rifles and guns has turned into hand to hand combat in a labyrinth of corridors and rooms:

Nick, Renard and Hank have come upon a group of at least 7 gang members – all blutbaden or hundjagers as his partner has told them at once – and before they could even think about calling for back up they've been involved in fierce fighting! One might say he's had his hands full but even he's been bound to notice how Nick and the Captain have fought side by side.

And what a fight that has been! Hank has had amble opportunity to observe both his partner and his Captain battling wesen but this has been unprecedented:

Gone has been their difficult relationship, the tension and wariness, only to be replaced by two beings moving in total sync, complementing and protecting each other while both unleash their deadly skills! Hank doesn't know about sensing auras from Grimms or wesen but seeing those two – Nick in full, instinctive Grimm mode and Renard in what must be his woged state although he couldn't see it – has made a shiver of awe and dread run down his spine.

 

But it is true, he's  _had_  his own hands full, alright, and despite being the only kehrseite in the room he's dealt much more damage than he's received. 

 

So, when all gang members have been either unconscious or incapacitated Hank has stepped over to the other two just in time to catch a short exchange: 

Renard has given Nick a once over, that might have been concern and a quest to gauge damage, but also has been about seizing up another powerful warrior. And there's been more, barely perceptible, hidden beneath layers of control and a distanced act, but still there.

 

Hank is sure, if it weren't for his unique knowledge of both their Captain and the wesen realm, he wouldn't have noticed it at all: A spark of appreciation. Appreciation from the zauberbiest, the primal being, not their always aloof commander. 

 

And what's made all this so much more promising has been Nick's response. In that instant – both of them still elated from a battle won and on an adrenaline rush – the Grimm has shown an answering gleam in his eyes as they've intently regarded each other. No matter how unconscious that action may have been, Nick has recognized and reciprocated Renard's revealing gaze. 

 

A moment later all has been hidden beneath control and reservation again and the Captain has asked: “No injuries this time, Burkhardt?” 

For once Nick hasn't answered in anger but with a triumphant grin.

“Just scratches this time.... Something I cannot say for any of those guys.”

“No, we can not.” Renard's half-smile is just this side of wicked. Hank's knowledge of zauberbiester is limited but he is quite sure that a tiny part of their Captain revels in dealing this kind of damage and the carnage they've left behind. Well, who is he to judge? Fighting those sick bastards  _has_  felt damn good.

 

They notice Hank then and all three take a moment to observe the havoc they have wrecked among the group in silent camaraderie before finally back up arrives, arrests are made and the operation comes to an end. 

 

>>>

 

Anyway. Now it's Friday evening, they have the rest of the weekend off and Hank decides to make the most of it. For the time being he pushes away any thoughts of his co-workers to make his way to their favorite bar for a few drinks with Wu. Nick would have come as well but then Bud the eisbiber has called and asked for some favor, so his partner has taken his leave with a rueful grin.

“It seems I still have to put in a bit of work to keep up my reputation as friendly neighborhood Grimm.”

“Your loss, partner.”

“Hitting the nail on the head, Hank. Oh well, what's there to be done? Just make sure Wu doesn't start any drunken betting again... his bets tend to get weirder the more beers he's had and he never seems to loose any of them no matter how many he's had.”

“Will do. See you on Monday.”

“Yeah. See you on Monday.”

 

>>>

 

Nick throws a last glance at his writing desk at home, where various papers are strewn. One sticks out from the mass of reports, witness statements and images. Nick cannot help the small smile that steals upon his lips. He might have gotten a little bit distracted while drawing those composite images.

 

The picture is drawn in lead and shows Sean Renard after the battle that night. His sharp profile is caught up in an expression of thought while the stance of his lithe body still is poised for battle and bloodshed. With a distracted gesture Nick shifts papers until the one in question is hidden again but he needn't have bothered. The image of his Captain is burned into his retina and won't leave him.

Seeing Renard that way has been... exhilarating. He should distance himself from thoughts like these but he cannot seem to. The play of muscle, graceful movements, each punch and kick aiming to deal the most damage at a cost of minimal strain on his body. 

He sighs. Fighting for once not with him but alongside of him... it seems like a promise of so much more. It makes him yearn for the 'biest's proximity while at the same time the predatory Grimm in him rears its head in protest at needing protection at all....

Not for long, however, as even his inner Grimm recognizes strength and experience of the battle seasoned zauberbiest. And that look the man has thrown him! That short moment when he has seen a world of emotions in those watchful green eyes.

 

When his body begins to show his appreciation in an entirely different way he steps away from the table with a sharp shake of his head. 

 

_This is going too far! Yes, there is attraction. Yes, I might desire things I know I shouldn't but that doesn't mean I'm going to give in to those urges! Remember, Nick, there is a reason you keep your distance! At the other end only hurt and disappointment lie in wait for you. Remember what happened the last time you attached yourself and assumed things!_

 

With determined motions he packs his things and heeds out to meet Bud to help with whatever problem the skittish man might have. 

 

>>>

 

Sean looks out into the night, at a city that's aflame with a thousand lights, and yet he sees not a single one of them.

Before his inner eyes he sees the Grimm... Nick... in heat of the battle and at the height of his power. An appreciative growl is repressed but barely. When he inhales deeply he can still imagine Nick's unique scent: 

_Fresh leaves, a hint of sandalwood, all mixed with a heady smell of danger and violence. It describes his Detective perfectly. The kind-hearted, lively man, the deadly Cop and Grimm... all merged to form the person he is._

...His body moving in battle. Nick's body and mind in an intricate deadly dance with his own while they fight drug dealer and murderer. 

_Oh, what an alluring picture, indeed. …_

 

Renard reigns in his feelings with iron control. He cannot hope to have him for himself... not now and most likely not ever. A frustrating thought but oh so true. Anyway. He will pull through what he's begun no matter what the cost, because this is the most curious thing about it all, isn't it? For once he wants to help without a personal gain to work for. He wants to make Nick whole again, save the person he is, even if that means only seeing him from afar for the rest of his life.

And they are making progress, aren't they? There's been no incidents for a little over a month now. Nick has even stopped pushing him away at every turn.

 

He gazes out through the window once more, this time actually concentrating on the magnificent view when it happens:

A sharp pain, blooming so it seems before dwindling away from a dull throb to nothing at all.

_Damn it!!_

 

>>>

 

Nick sits up slowly.

 

_Why am I sitting here?… My head hurts… Uuuh, I’ve hit my head._

 

He remains where he is on the ground and looks around in a daze.

 

_Head hurts… I need help…. Help. Why…? Need to get to the Captain. Renard is help. Why is he?... Need to get to him._

His thoughts are a jumbled mess and his head really hurts. He gets up, swaying, then rights himself and slowly starts walking. His car is parked nearby. That’s good. He gets in and pulls back onto the road, vaguely remembering that for some reason it is really important to get to Renard.

 

>>>

 

Sean waits for his Grimm or for some form of contact. It’s been nearly an hour since the bond has alerted him to something being amiss but up until now, there’s been nothing.

His fingers tighten their grip around his mug of coffee in frustration.

 

_Frustration… a feeling I’ve grown all too accustomed to over the last months. Now I have to wait and see if he contacts me in any way! That still leaves the question of what I do, if he doesn’t do anything at all? If I want to keep my credibility I’ll have to suspend him, which in turn will remove him from my immediate sphere of influence. This is a damn dilemma!_

 

>>>

 

One and a half hours.

He has tried contacting him on his cell phone once but Nick hasn’t taken up.

 

_Now that either means he cannot do so or that he doesn’t want to. I don’t know which I would prefer: An ailment or situation so grave that it keeps him from reporting or the clear proof that he gives a damn about the consequences of his ignorance._

 

It’s just as he contemplates sending a warning via text message that the stationary phone in his condo rings.

With a frown he takes it up.

„Renard?“

„Sir, there is a man here to see you.“

It’s Sievers, that new clerk who mans the front desk of the building.

„Did he give you his name?“

„When I asked he said his name is Nick, no surname that he spoke of. He just said he needs to see you. Shall I call for security to throw him out? He seems weirdly confused.“

 

Renard notices the clerk growing increasingly flustered and decides to intervene. Inwardly his gut may clench with a feeling of foreboding, outwardly, though, he is an epitome of calm.

„No, you may not. I will deal with this personally. I’ll be down in a moment.“

„Okay, Sir. I will just wait for you, Sir.“

When he has ended the call Sean takes a moment to close his eyes and take a deep breath. He pinches the bridge of his nose, praying for strength, before slipping into a pair of shoes and making his way to the lobby as fast as dignity allows.

 

_It seems Nick has come to me, after all. But in what state, that remains to be seen._

 

When he strides out of the elevator into the entrance hall nobody would have guessed that Captain Sean Renard is coiled as tight as a spring and dreading what he will find. His face is set in an emotionless mask and even when he spots his Detective standing by the front desk with a distracted air about him he doesn’t show a twitch of expression.

 

„I’ve got this, Sievers. No need to concern yourself with it any longer.“

His tone projects all the authority of a long standing commander and has the nervous young clerk practically jumping to get out of the way of Renard and his mysterious, creepy guest. He has looked just a step away from calling security, anyway, something the zauberbiest prefers to nib in the bud.

 

>>>

 

„Detective. What is the matter?“ When Nick turns toward him upon being addressed Sean begins to understand why Sievers has grown a bit skittish around the Grimm:

His eyes seem huge as he gazes around blinkingly, and he doesn’t seem to be able to focus on anything specific for a longer amount of time.

 

_No overly dilated or constricted pupils, so none of the common drugs. Something is definitely amiss, though._

 

„Captain….“

His tone borders on surprise as if Nick hasn’t known he would meet him until the instant he has laid eyes on him. Now he looks up at him with a guileless, slightly wondering expression that doesn’t want to match the intelligent, always watchful eyes of the man he knows.

„Sir….“ A moment’s pause.

„I’ve hit my head.“

_Well, that certainly explains a few things._

„Okay. Why don’t we go over to there, where it’s a bit quieter?“

_Or in other words: Where there isn’t some inexperienced barely out of puberty receptionist…._

He points out which spot he's referring to and observes the halting way Nick's eyes follow his outstretched finger. The Grimm frowns in thought now. 

„It hurts.“

He sounds distracted and there is a barely noticeable pout in his tone as if he takes the pain as a personal insult. Very carefully and watching closely for any sign of a negative reaction Sean takes him by the upper arms and leads him over to a secluded spot in the entrance lobby.

 

The Prince needn’t have worried for a bad reaction, though. At first when Nick bumps gently into his side Sean thinks he is unsteady on his feet. To his great surprise, however, Nick doesn’t simply sway in his direction but actually leans into him! His next words - mumbled quietly and with an adorable amount of innocence - confirm his suspicions.

 

„I need… I’ve hit my head. Need your help…. Needed to tell you, needed to urgently tell you.“

There’s another pause and Nick frowns as if he still cannot understand why all this has happened while Sean unconsciously tightens his hold on him.

„Head hurts.“

No matter how hard he fights that instinct - he’s learned that Nick’s acceptance of help can be short lived, after all - his inner 'biest yearns to protect and take care of his Grimm.

„Come on, Nick. I will take you to my condo, where you can sit down and I can have a look at what’s wrong with you.“

„Okay. I’ve hit my head and needed to get to you.“

„And you did well to come to me.“

Together they step into the elevator where finally they are away from prying eyes and listening ears. The slight lurch that precedents the upward movement seems to make Nick queasy because he squeezes his eyes shut and his hand goes out to steady himself on the wall.

 

_Better yet distract him and get to the bottom of all this._

„Nick?“ It takes him a moment to react. He opens his eyes and regards him with a kind of trust that makes hope and ache fight for predominance in Sean's chest.

„You’ve said that you needed to come to me. Can you tell me where you’ve come from?“

There’s honest confusion. Renard rephrases his question.

„Where have you been before, Nick?“

His tone is soft and non-threatening. He’s mindful of Nick’s headache and furthermore he wants to set him at ease. There’s no telling when his Grimm will decide that needing help from his Captain is a threat to him and anything he can find out in the meantime is precious information, indeed. There's no outward sign of an injury other than his apparent confusion so that leaves the question of what has happened?

 

„Umm… I hit my head and was on the ground. I knew I had to get to you. It hurts….  _Are_  you help?“

That last question, the confused, anxious frown, it all tears at Sean’s innards no matter how much he tries to stay aloof. He shakes off those feelings, though, needing to retain a cool head to analyze the situation at hand.

„Yes, Nick. I am here to help you. What kind of underground did you wake up on? Was it a forest or inside a building?“

Nick can only mutely shake his head.

_He doesn’t know where he has been but he knows and reacts to his name. Furthermore he recognizes me. Maybe this is a form of short term amnesia. I will have to put that theory to a test._

 

_The elevator stops._

Another grimace, a low moan.

„Come on. Time to get you settled.“

 

>>>

 

They step into his condo together. To say that Sean isn’t worried would be a lie. Nick’s expression has become increasingly marred by pain and intermittently he is murmuring about hitting his head while he is still unclear on where or how it actually has happened.

 

Therefore he makes sure that Nick is able to stand on his own before he moves to close the door to his flat. It takes only a moment to do so but upon turning back around he suddenly finds himself with an arm full of Grimm! He tenses instinctively but at the same time his hands shoot out to steady him least he should fall and take further damage.

 

>>>

 

Nick hurts. His head feels like it’s about to explode. He wants Renard’s help. He wants to rest his aching head on the Captain’s chest. It looks comfortable and like a safe heaven. He moves toward his destination even though keeping hold of a single line of thought is difficult.

 

_Head hurts. He must make the pain go away. I want to be near him… his help…._

 

His forehead comes into contact with a broad chest. The impact, slight as it is, hurts like hell but he doesn’t care and latches onto the tall man’s body before he can move away. Muscles and tendons stiffen at the contact, sending an unconscious jolt of fear through the muddle-headed Grimm, but despite everything that warm presence doesn’t try to dislodge him and so he relaxes.

 

_This feels good._

 

„Can you make the pain go away?“

 

Those quietly spoken words, muffled because Nick has his face pressed up flatly against his chest, spear through the hardened zauberbiest’s chest like an arrow. If he hasn’t been inclined the nurture and protect this man before, now he irrevocably is! The body against his is trembling slightly and Nick's arms are slung around his torso as if he is deathly afraid that Sean will reject him.

 

_And isn’t that part of the problem?_

He swallows thickly before answering, feeling a lump in his throat all of a sudden. He cannot say why, it’s just that Nick’s quiet plea has touched something so deep within his soul, that he cannot even begin to fight it.

Not that he wants to do so on a general scale, but up until now every self-defensive instinct he possesses has screamed at him to keep a certain distance to avoid getting hurt.

 

But Nick always has had a way of getting under his skin. The big, powerful zauberbiest sighs even as his arms come to rest around the smaller man’s back, holding and protecting him.

 

„Oh, Nick.“ A barely audible whisper wrought with sympathy and feeling. He clears his throat. Then louder: „I will try to make you hurt less. Will you let me have a look at you to see what’s wrong?“

A pause, then a slight nod against his chest.

„Good. I’m going to feel for a bruise or wound now. Just stay still for a moment.“

While one of his arms tightens his hold on him, his hand moves up and into Nick’s hair to feel for anything unusual. When the man, instead of pulling away, leans into his touch with a soft noise of contentment and yearning, Sean swears he has forgotten how to breathe.

 

_Concentrate, you damn fool! You need to check what is wrong with Nick._

He closes his eyes for a moment, focusing on what his fingers feel upon their questing. He finds the spot with relative ease. There on the back of Nick’s head slightly to the left is an impressive bump. There’s no blood, which is a relief, but it must have been quite a hit, because when he puts slight pressure on it to gauge its severity, Nick moans lowly. He doesn’t move away, though, just presses his forehead further into Sean’s chest.

 

His fingers leave the spot then and he returns to holding his Grimm upright with both arms.

 

„It’s okay. Now why don’t we settle you to sit on the sofa for the moment?“

His soft tone must be what Nick needs, because if possible he melts even further against his chest and is compliant enough when Sean leads him over to the couch. He guides him to sit down before going and fetching an ice pack to put on the bump.

 

Sitting down next to his Grimm he turns to address him.

„Come on. I have something to help with the pain. Just lean forward a bit.“

Instead of leaning forward, though, Nick’s gaze begins to stray around until it finally lands on his Captain. Even in his confused state a clear, anxious question lies gray eyes as they seek out his own. For a moment the shrewd Prince is frozen to the spot, something that hasn't happened for as long as he can remember. He searches Nick’s gaze intently before responding to the silent request.

He needs to be sure of what his Detective is asking.

„You don’t want to lean forward, do you?“

A shake of his head, a barely audible moan.

_Yes, that would have hurt._

Out of the window goes his distanced act when he places his hand gently on Nick’s wrist, where it is lying in his lap. In his other hand he kneads the ice pack, not in nervousness, of course, or so he tells himself. The Grimm doesn’t pull away, just seems to be arrested in a state of indecision much like Sean himself is.

 

„Nick, you have to tell me what you want.“

 

His gaze when he looks at him speaks of desires that are normally hidden beneath layers upon protective layers but now laid bare in his hurt state. It makes Sean’s breath catch in his throat. He is aware that his own eyes reveal too much emotions as well right now but he cannot find it in himself to care.

„Nick.“

A gentle prompt.

In response the battered Grimm leans to the side until finally, finally he feels that wonderful, comforting source of warmth underneath his cheek once more. He lets out a tired sigh and buries his face further into the soft material of his Captain’s shirt.

„Your… help. You are help.“ Those words spill out on a soft breath and mean more to the distanced zauberbiest that he ever would have thought possible.

 

There’s a long pause, then careful, hesitant fingertips start stroking over his scalp, staying well away from the source of pain there.

„Easy, there. I’ll take care of you. I’ll help you.“

Keeping up a soothing caress he gently presses the ice pack to the back of Nick’s head. At first he stiffens at the foreign sensation but soon he relaxes with relief when cold numbs pain.

 

„You weren’t working on a case tonight. Can you tell me, what you did instead?“

It is a quiet, neutrally posed question. Sean is aware that Nick will almost certainly need to see a doctor but he wants to be clear on what he is facing first.

„Umm…. I’ve hit my head. I….“

He doesn’t seem to know how to go on.

„Hmm. Say, what did you have for dinner yesterday?“

„Umm… I….”

There’s no anxiousness in Nick’s tone. He’s truly confused but not cognizant enough of the situation to be frightened by his apparent memory loss.

 

_Definitely a trip to hospital is in order. But there is one last question to ask…. To see how far his amnesia goes._

 

„Nick, you’ve told me last week about something that blutbad friend of yours did… what was his name again?“

„Monroe.“ The answer comes promptly this time.

„He’s lost some tiny cog for one of his clocks and he’s driven Rosalee and me crazy while he was searching for it. Even went all growly and blutbadden on us at one point.“

„Ah, yes. That was it.“

 

_So no long term memory loss and he is still aware of the wesen world._

 

>>>

 

He stays in the background as Nick is examined by a doctor in emergency unit, as a blood sample is taken from a vein in his arm and he is scheduled for further tests like x-rays and so on.

 

The doctor tells him that Nick has been lucky by the look of it and that any confusion will clear up in a few hours. They will keep him overnight to watch for complications but with pain meds and an ice pack he’ll be fine.

 

The Captain gives a nod to that but remains near, watching procedures like a hawk. When Nick grows slightly agitated because he feels some brash drangzorn caretaker approach but cannot place the vibes he gets from him the zauberbiest steps up to the bed and does his own share of sending out threatening vibes!

 

>>>

 

He is confused and hurting. People that he doesn't know are prodding and poking at him. He doesn't like it one bit. It makes him uneasy. Without knowing why his gaze starts straying around the room searching for something. Even in his foggy state he recognizes it as soon as he lays eyes on it:

Renard. He is near. He is safety.

 

He wants to push away the man who is touching his head but his Captain shakes his head. The movement is small but he knows what he wants to tell him. 

He heaves a put upon sigh that morphs into a low moan when his head is prodded at the wrong spot. He glares at the man, then seeks out Renard's gaze again. He has come nearer when he hasn't been looking. Why? Another tiny head shake but those eyes hold his gaze as he suffers through examination. They are the only thing he can concentrate on for longer. 

 

The man moves away from him and over to Renard. Nick hears their conversation but in his muddled state he cannot glean any meaning from it. The Captain nods at the end and moves a bit nearer yet again. Nick wants him to come over all the way. He doesn't know why... 

_Renard is help...._

 

Nick tries to think around pain and fuzziness and when that doesn't work he takes to simply focusing on his Prince. His attention is drawn away before long, however. Someone new enters the curtained off area, regards him with some emotion that he cannot place but doesn't like at all, then his face changes!

 

_Woge.... Drangzorn...._

“Grimm.”

Spoken under the man's breath but with negative feeling. The onslaught of information and sensations his body takes in makes his head ache even more! 

There's a sense of danger. He rises half from the pillows although the new man doesn't approach. 

_What do I need to do now? I don't know! Need help... need to tell Renard._

 

As if summoned by his jumbled thoughts the Captain is suddenly right next to him, giving off his very own aura of aggressive vibes! Still they are different. They do not make him hurt but feel safe.

_Protected.... Renard is here to protect me._

It is the first clear thought Nick can hold onto and although he's still dazed, it is a start in the right direction. 

 

>>>

 

Before long the caretaker turns tail in face of Renard's deadly glare and threatening aura and leaves Nick to sink back against the pillows in relief. His hand goes out, anyhow, as if searching for and not finding something to hold onto. 

Renard hesitates to touch, not sure if Nick would want it, were he in a more clear headed state of mind, but upon catching his Grimm’s restless gaze, he throws reservation in the wind and puts his hand gently on Nick’s shoulder. Relief is instantly visible and reassures Sean that he's done the right thing. 

 

„No need to get agitated. He’s gone already. Just relax. The doctor says a nurse will come soon with pain killers and another ice pack, then you can rest for a while.”

Nick seems to react to his tone of voice so he takes care to keep it soft and soothing. His thumb starts rubbing inconsequential patterns on the shoulder it touches even before Sean has spared a conscious thought to it, but it calms his Grimm so he continues anyway.

 

>>>

 

The next encounter with hospital staff is much more pleasant, although even that puts the zauberbiest Prince on edge for reasons he cannot put his finger on. It is a nurse, Seelengut as becomes apparent as soon as she meets Nick's tired gaze, and she smiles at them both without fear before placing down a small tray on the nightstand next to Nick's temporary bed.

Meeting Renard's gaze squarely she says:

“Don't think anything of Andy's idiotic behavior. He might be a bit brazen at times but he is friendly enough once he's had time to actually use his head.”

Seeing that she is sincere and without a shred of deception Sean relaxes slightly, only to stiffen and step between her and Nick at her next words:

“Mr. Burkhardt is the Grimm of Portland, isn't he?” 

There's no aggression or other negative feeling in her tone but he won't take any chances!

“What is it to you, if he is?” 

She doesn't wither under his unforgiving stare but rather watches Nick with sympathy. 

“It is of no consequence to me. I have heard about him and know that he is different from others of his kind. He's rumored to be the first friendly Grimm in like forever. I do not intent to do him harm but it is good that he has someone like you to protect him.”

 

Her warm half smile takes any ammunition for the zauberbiest's wariness. He sees clearly that she tells the truth, so with a final intense stare he steps aside to let her do what she has come for.

 

This time Nick doesn't grow upset. When she talks to him it is in a quiet and gentle voice, still taking him serious even in as fuzzy a state as he is in right now.

“You look like you are in some pain there. I have meds for you to help with that. And an ice pack for your head. Is it okay for you to take these tablets and let me put the pack to your head?”

 

She waits patiently for him to work out the meaning of her words. That this time Nick gives a hesitant nod and then takes pills from her and water to get them down, tells the Captain that his mind must slowly be clearing. 

He watches closely as the nurse helps him lie back and positions a cloth wrapped ice pack between his head and the pillow so it stays where it is meant to.

Upon taking her leave she seeks out Renard's gaze once more and says quietly:

“Take good care of him, your Highness.”

 

Before Sean can come up with an answer to that she has already left, leaving him slightly befuddled at her recognition of his status. With an inner shrug he pushes these thoughts away in order to step up to Nick's bed and do as she has requested.

 

He regards his Grimm with a mixture of still present concern and fondness, feelings only partly hidden beneath his usual distanced mask this time.

“Rest now as long as you can. They will do some further examinations later on, like x-rays, but for now you can sleep.”

 

“I know now why I needed to tell you.... You helped.”

 

These simple words show a deeper insight into things than anything else Nick has uttered today. His Detective is definitely resurfacing. A small smile grazes Sean's lips in response to his words, although inwardly he dreads Nick's reaction to the day's events once he learns what has happened.

 

_Not that he will remember any of it. Not at once, at least._

The thought makes a kind of pain spread in the Bastard Prince's chest that he has formerly been ignorant of. Today has been progress and... precious. To think that all this may have no bearing on their future as Nick might not remember makes his throat close up momentarily.

“You look sad. Why are you?” 

Nick's words come as a surprise. He is nearly asleep and yet Sean is startled by his perceptiveness as well as him suddenly speaking up.

“It is no matter. Go to sleep. You are safe now.” 

His hand returns to his Grimm's shoulder and stays there even after Nick has fallen asleep already.

 

>>>

 

It is like someone has pushed a button to bring his conscious mind back to life again. He resurfaces to find himself in a hospital bed – name bracelet around his wrist and all – with an ice pack wedged between the back of his head and the pillow and no memory of how he has come to be here. 

It's dark outside so it must be late evening, night or early morning. He looks around and spots his personal affects at once, lying on a small table next to his bed. While one hand goes to his head to take stock the other already grabs his cellphone. There's quite a bump on his head and a dull ache throbs through he base of his skull but otherwise he's feeling okay. Looking at the inside of his elbow he also finds a small puncture mark which hopefully simply means that they have done some blood tests and taken a samples for that.

 

Looking at the bright cell phone screen hurts his eyes but his attention is caught up by other things, anyway: It is a most peculiar thing to see more than one text message in his inbox, the small ticks beside them indicating he has already read those, and still having no memory of having done so.

There's one from Hank for example, asking if he is already done with whatever he had to do for Bud and if he still wants to join them at the bar (Whichever bar Hank might mean, Nick cannot remember.).

His own answering message says that he'll be held up longer and that sadly, he won't be able to make it.

 

Having no memory of ever typing that one is slightly disturbing but less so than Nick would have imagined. He is not suddenly panicked but curiously calm, even a little bit amused. Looking at time and date displayed on his phone and comparing that to time report of the messages reassures him that he hasn't suddenly lost a few years but that only about 8 hours has passed since he's texted with his partner. He can clearly remember the start of the week and also things like their raid against 'Portland Tigers' but the last day is kind of hazy. Thinking about it now he vaguely remembers talking to Hank about visiting some bar but then Bud called and he declined. Anything after that... well, he's fairly stumped there.

 

_Now the question remains how I have winded up in hospital with a bump to the head?_

 

There's no nurse or doctor in sight yet so Nick decides to investigate further. He calls Bud and with a bit of careful questioning and without telling him of his injury (to avoid having an eisbiber die of cardiac arrest) he learns what it was he should do for the repairman.

 

_Turns out that dodgy supply seller, who has fooled Bud, has other misdeeds to confess to.... Like somehow making a Detective wind up in hospital...._

_Wind up in hospital.... Why do I have the feeling that I am forgetting something?_

…

 

_Oh shit!! I have to tell Renard!! Oh, hell! He'll suspend me! Maybe he already has! I need to tell Renard!_

 

That last thought rings a bell somewhere in his head like a deja vu but honestly he has more urgent matters to attend to than think about that little tidbit. He doesn't like it one bit that he has to report to the Captain but somehow anger at the whole situation fails to make itself known with any real heat. 

It is more like cold dread gripping his guts, especially when he spots an unanswered call from the Captain approximately two hours after his texting with Hank.

By the time he pushes speed dial he's quite frantic.

_What if he decides I have waited too long? I mean, obviously I couldn't report any sooner but maybe he won't believe me?_

 

>>>

 

It is about 5 o'clock in the morning when his cellphone rings. Sean starts up from sleep, years of being a cop making him grow awake and alert instantly.

He squints down on the caller-id. It's Nick.

_Now that will be interesting._

 

“Renard?”

“Sir, this is Nick. I know you've most likely been alerted to something happening by that damn bond hours ago but I swear to you I couldn't report any sooner! I just woke up in hospital with a bump to my head and no memory of how I have attained it.... But I am reporting now....”

“Detective, that won't be necessary.”

“What? Wait! What do you mean?”

Had he been any less frantic he might have noticed that Renard sounds curiously amicable, amused even.

“You cannot suspend me! Really, I couldn't report any s....!”

“Nick.”

The Grimm rambles on.

“Nick! Will you listen for a moment?”

Silence at the other end of the line.

“Thank you. Now, if you would let me explain, I could tell you that it isn't necessary for you to report because you already did.”

“What?”

Even as dumbfounded as this answer leaves him, by now even Nick notes a certain amount of barely veiled amusement in his superior's tone.

“You came to me this evening... well, I should say yesterday evening, and asked to see me. You were rather confused and when, upon my questioning, you couldn't even tell me what you had for dinner the day before yesterday, I thought it prudent to take you to hospital. By that time I have already been aware that you've had some kind of hematoma at the back of your head.”

“Oh, well.... And what now?”

Above all Nick sounds nearly as confused as last evening but this time Sean knows it is from surprise instead of short term amnesia. He also notes with a certain degree of satisfaction that his Detective doesn't sound as stand-off-ish as he did after prior incidents.

“Now you will spend the rest of the night, although it is morning anyway, at hospital, let your doctor do whatever tests he deems necessary and text me once you know for how long he puts you on medical leave. Any further questions?”

There's a long pause.

“Umm... what if he doesn't put me on medical leave?”

“Highly unlikely but in case he doesn't you may return to work on Monday. Oh, and just in case your memory still fails you on that account: You already have the weekend off, so no need to get worked up about missing anything for the next two days.”

A sigh at the other end of the line.

“Okay, Sir. I'll... maybe see you on Monday.”

There's a bit of frustration in Nick's tone but overall he has taken the news much better than Sean would have expected.

“I'll see you back at work once you are healed, get well.”

The Captain' parting words are warning as well as – surprisingly – sincerely meant well-wishes, at least going by the man's warmer than usual tone. Nick stares at his phone in contemplation and bemusement for some time after he has ended the call. 

 

Somehow, when he thinks back to the blank that are the last hours and when he thinks back to the Captain a curious warm feeling spreads through his chest. He cannot for the life of him discern what it means but he cannot shake it off either.

 

>>>

 

The day he spends in hospital is much less restful than one would think. They insist on flashing a small torch light into his eyes every hour or so to see if his pupils react to such a stimulus normally. At first he's rather grumpy about it but once his doctor explains to him that not reacting to it would most likely point to inner bleeding in his brain he takes it with much more grace. 

Brain bleeding, after all, is something he has no wish for at all!

 

>>>

 

When in the evening a nurse comes by with his meal he experiences a vague feeling of familiarity. With a sheepish expression he asks her about it and is relieved when she tells him that they have, indeed, already met the evening before.

 

“It is a good sign if you are beginning to have a vague recollection of things. It might still take a while before you remember everything but I am hopeful that you will in time.”

“Thanks. I'm glad to hear that. Can I ask you something about how I arrived here?”

“Yes, of course. What do you wanna know?” 

Her expression as she cocks her head slightly to the side reminds him of Rosalee and he finds that not only in gestures but in character as well she bears great similarities to his friend. 

One of those is definitely her warm and open nature. A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth in response to that. 

 

“Can you tell me who brought me here?”

“Oh, yes. It was that tall man. Your Captain at the Police station you work in, if I recall correctly. He remained with you the whole time until Dr. Hetherston had finished examining and treating you. It was cute to watch. He was all protective and helped settle you when you grew agitated in your muddled state.

“He did? ...And he was?”

At his sudden intense stare her wesen side blinks into existence and while he already hurries to assure her, that he may be a Grimm but does not intent to hurt her, she only smiles and shakes her head.

“Don't worry. I have heard enough about you not to be afraid. Anyway, it is funny that you should say that. Your Captain had me assure him the same thing you just told me because I knew you are a Grimm and he was worried I would have cause to hurt you for it. I don't know how close the two of you are but if you ask me to get the Royal of Portland that flustered there must have been a whole lot of concern involved.”

 

Nick opens and closes his mouth a few times before finally getting out:

“You... you think so? Maybe he was just dong his duty as my commanding officer... I mean....”

Her expression becomes tinged with gentleness and mischief now.

“He may have done so. But maybe he was just as worried about you as he seemed to me. I have heard you are a homicide Detective so I wager you have a good head for thinking – head injury none withstanding – so you might want to think about that.”

 

She continues on her round then and it's safe to say that she leaves Nick with much food for thought... and food for his body but that one looks slightly disgusting so he passes up on it with a sigh.

 

_So Renard looked like he cared? Was it just for appearances? But we are talking about Sean Renard here! That man would sooner show no emotion at all than reveal any even for appearances sake. But what does that mean in the greater scale of things? I wish I could remember last night!! Maybe then I would know why I get that peculiar feeling any time I think of the man!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was it, another chapter. I hope you didn't think Nick's latest adventure too weird....  
> Let me tell you that account: Been there, done that... nearly the same thing happened to me once and it was a most peculiar but surprisingly non frightening situation to wake up to. ;)
> 
> So this is what happens when Nick's instincts take over. Now it remains to be seen if the rest of their ride will be smooth or wrought with more obstacles... knowing me you'll be able to guess, I think. ;D
> 
> Happy Easter to everyone!


End file.
